


Divulgence - A Haikyuu!! Valentine's (2018)

by tsukkisaur



Series: You're Not You When You're Hungry, Have A [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Afterschool Date, Akaashi Loves A Noisy Bokuto 2k18, Anxiety, But He Can't Study in English to Save His Life, But Kiyoko Loves Her More, Café, Chocolates, Daichi and Koushi Sitting in a Tree, Disrupted Confessions, Don't Judge Him, Dorks in Love, Extra Practice, F/F, First Name Calling, Flowers, Girls in Love, Hairbands, Headbands, Hinata was Memorizing His Lines, Light Angst, Literature Projects, Love Confessions, Love Letters, M/M, Managers are Cute 2k18, Matching AsaNoya Headbands, Nanase is probably Nanase Haruka's grandmother, Power's out, Silent Bokuto Koutarou, Silent Bokuto is just so weird to be honest, Sugawara Koushi is a Fantasy Lover, Sugawara Koushi is his Own Princess, Talking in Class, Valentine's Day Fluff, What Else Do You Need for Valentine's?, Worried Akaashi Keiji, Written Love Confessions, Yachi has Clammy Hands, Yachi isn't a Cliche Bastard that Buys Flowers on Valentine's, and i love her, hand holding, he's perfect, k i s s i n g
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-03-17 08:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 36,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13654926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsukkisaur/pseuds/tsukkisaur
Summary: It's February 14th, and everyone has a problem.1. Asahi bought the gifts for Nishinoya. Now he just doesn't know if he can give them, even when he has the chance to.2. Sugawara loves fantasy, but on this one special day, his knight in shining armor 'calls' him "Koushi." he has yet to find out why.3. Akaashi planned for a confession, but he knows Bokuto's in dire need of a girlfriend. So nothing matters now. Things are fine the way they are.4. Yachi only chose to confess. With Shimizu establishing a relationship out of the blue, how is she supposed to believe it'll stay like that for long?5. Kageyama finds out about Hinata liking him, and the redhead is panicking. What was he supposed to tell him now? By the time he really was about to tell him the truth, the lights are suddenly out, and the two are alone in the dark. Hinata's too scared to confess now.





	1. The Plight of Azumane Asahi (1)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Valentine's is approaching, so I decided to work on mini-chapters for my OTPs in Haikyuu!! 
> 
> I'm starting it off with a brush of AsaNoya (light anxiety hue hue HUE), and I'll be alternating stories from here on out, so I can [hopefully] maintain the timelines. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy these!! Every read means a lot, and I am very thankful for the support you precious gems have to offer >-< Sometimes I think I can't even deserve this dfbsnfksngksndkn
> 
> Anyway, ASANOYA!!

“Asahi-san!”

“N-Nishinoya?”

The senior’s face softened at the sight of the libero bounding towards him, meandering through a variety of students going the opposite direction. Lunch was such an important time—it was when the cafeteria was packed to the brim, flooding with so many students the ladies in charge tend to throw hotdogs, burgers, and other more snacks just to finish off the horde of food behind the counters in a whimsical attempt to alleviate the chaos.

Asahi _definitely_ did not belong to crowded spaces. Someone with his height would have granted himself advantages, but he was not entirely sure if he could make it out alive. He always had his doubts, and thus, he resorted to bringing _bento_.

Seeing Nishinoya after the last period of the morning classes, however, was quite the eccentric sight. Although Asahi had never seen the sophomore buying himself food—more likely because he was never really there to witness it in the first place—he could easily imagine an energetic second year hurdling himself into the air just to catch a thrown piece of milk bread right before it landed.

As soon as Asahi realized, Nishinoya was arcing his back in front of him, palms rested on his knees, panting, in an attempt to control his breathing. “Damn,” he managed between wheezes. “This is no good. My s… stamina’s horrible today.”

“You, erm, must be hungry. That’s… that’s all. I think.”

Asahi wanted to slap himself. _Is that supposed to cheer him up?_

Oh, how it annoyed the senior. Nishinoya _always_ had his back. For a reason he could not quite understand, his presence had been the reason of the libero’s return to the team earlier that school year. How important are friends, exactly, to the sophomore standing right before him? Asahi loved that part of Nishinoya, but it annoyed him to his frail little heart whenever he thought of the sole fact that he could _never_ be around for him.

It was the guilt that still gnawed at the back of his mind ever so often. And it worsened when he held up no denial of him falling in love with Nishinoya Yuu.

Asahi was _seriously_ pathetic.

And it made him feel worse when he recalled he had stuffed all the gifts he had prepared for Nishinoya in his bag, but it didn’t feel as though he would ever work up the courage to hand them all over to the libero.

 _Butterflies_ , thought the ace, clutching his stomach passively, faking a soft smile for the sake of the second year in front of him. _I can feel them inside of me._ He watched as Nishinoya straightened himself, his look so determined, it reminded Asahi of the face the libero wore during matches when his concentration was top-notch.

What made him make the same face, Asahi wondered, but it wasn’t as if he could actually bring himself to speak up and ask that aloud. Obviously, it wasn’t his business. What gave him the right to do so in the first place?

Asahi definitely didn’t want Nishinoya to hate him _a second time_.

Asahi felt Nishinoya eyeing him, then and there, when the constant sound bustling people around them—from the top floors to the ground and almost all the way to the nearest cafeteria—hung in the air. A ruined symphony of chatter, Asahi would call it.

By that time, he would be in his homeroom, sitting in his desk located at the back of the class. He would overhear thousands of conversations in a mere thirty minutes as he ate his food silently. God knew why Asahi suddenly felt like grabbing a drink from the vending machine in the building’s catwalk, or how he _coincidentally_ ran into Nishinoya, of all people.

Just thinking of the flowers he had hidden in his backpack—the first one he’s used in ages—and the chocolates carefully arranged inside a heart-shaped box he hand-picked from a local convenience store made Asahi feel all the more nauseated. He could see it in his future—he would be sitting on the sofa of their empty, sleeping home, binge-eating the chocolates he purchased with Noya on his mind.

Asahi wondered whatever got into him to actually get the nerve to buy a gift for a guy—the same one that would most likely hate him after their incident after their last match the previous school year with Date Tech.

 _At least ask him for his reasons to come find you_ , chided Asahi, taking a deep breath. The senior opened his mouth to speak, when Nishinoya interrupted him with a single question that pushed Asahi aback. “Won’t you come see me this afternoon?”

Earnest eyes were all Asahi could set his eyes on. Those orbs that practically sparkled from the winter sunlight, reflecting the white blanket of clouds veiling the vast sky. They were serious— _too_ serious. And familiar, if Asahi had to add. Now it looked like Nishinoya had been thinking of Asahi as a ball the whole time. How pitiful.

Asahi was _that_ lame, after all.

“Asahi-san,” called Nishinoya, tilting his head to search for his gaze. “Asahi-san, I asked you if you could come see me this afternoon.”

“Oh, yes! Yes, of course,” was all Asahi could muster, scratching lightly at the back of his head. _Why?_ He wanted to ask so badly, but his body wouldn’t yield to his will. “I-I’ll definitely see you at practice.”

The younger boy’s lips were pursed. “Before, I meant. I was wondering if we could go to the gym together.”

 _Why?_ Asahi was getting frustrated. _Spending more time with you… on this very day…_ His mind kept going back to the image of the box of chocolates inside his bag. Damn. It was going to be hard to do anything with ease.

All Asahi ever wanted was to make it through that day alive.

Hopefully speaking, not regretful.

“Mm,” the ace hummed in reply, offering Nishinoya a small smile. “Of course.”

Nishinoya grinned from ear to ear before hopping off with a _large_ wave, whooping cheerily, “I’ll see you later, then! I’ll meet you at your room!”

Asahi would have been lying if he said his heart wasn’t in pain.

_What did I get myself into?_


	2. The Plight of Azumane Asahi (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nishinoya's beside him, then behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I'm back with The Plight of Azumane Asahi. 
> 
> xD 
> 
> Also, this one work has reached 35 reads in less than 24 hours ;~; Thank you so much for supporting me and my writing. Please, please, please sit back and enjoy the next chapters! 
> 
> And books in the same series, if ya'll are interested in Christmas Haikyuu fics :3
> 
> Anyway, here, have more of my babies' love for each other BECAUSE THEY'RE SO PRECIOUS I JUST WANT TO GOBBLE THEM ALL UP. 
> 
> Valentine's is tomorrow, and I hope I finish this by then SADSHFBJSFIEUEFJSAJF 
> 
> //I spelled sad without knowing
> 
> //is this a sign of my failure
> 
> //fck
> 
> \- Kei (Twitter: @die_tsukki)
> 
> \- K

Above a set of notebooks was a small bouquet of three white roses tied with a blue string. Asahi bought them from the small cramped flower shop across his home, his hands quivering the whole time. “My, my, Azumane-kun,” cooed kind old Nanase-san, the woman who lived in one of the neighboring houses.

Asahi used to play in the hall open to their yard, where he would be granted a view of the mountains that nestled along the borderlines of Sendai. Nanase, almost every time, found time to sit beside the young boy and started conversations that went to no end. Asahi was grateful for her, just the same way she was grateful for him to be visiting her ever so often, especially after five years since her husband had passed away. Asahi’s parents were barely around, too, and she was the person who had made the best out of his childhood.

Nanase always knew Asahi was a boy full of anxiety, but whenever he was with her, he would forget to tremble the way he did with other people. It was as though she had provided him a type of consolation he would never find anywhere else, not even his own home.

“Is this for someone you like?” guessed Nanase, tucking silver tufts of hair behind her ear. She got up from her seat to walk over to the back part of the store, pulling out a roll of blue ribbon from the counter. “Valentine’s is around the corner, isn’t it?”

“Ah, y-yeah,” Asahi stuttered, approaching her as she produced a pair of scissors from one of her drawers. “I hope you don’t mind doing this for me, Nanase-san.”

The old woman gave him a dismissive gesture with a flick of a free hand. “Of course I won’t mind! If this is for my boy and the girl he desires, I can move around. I’m eighty, not dead!”

Asahi decided not to bother correcting her about ‘the girl,’ and watched as she snipped a good ten centimeters from the thin silk. Instead, Asahi went on, “Do you think she’ll like it? The roses, I mean.”

Nanase paused, and looked up at Asahi, studying his eyes. Her lids closed, wrinkling her skin from the corners of her sockets, and her dry pink lips cracked into a small smile Asahi had grown accustomed to. “Very, Azumane-kun.”

Wedged behind the physics books Asahi had brought to school was the small box of chocolates tied around with a red fat ribbon lined with gold thread that sparkled in the light. There was no better story behind it. Asahi had only found it in a convenience store thinking, “Noya would probably want these.”

Wasn’t chocolate invented to make people happier?

Asahi hadn’t seen that as a valid usage, but nonetheless, he went along with it. All he ever wanted was see Nishinoya jumping around, a smile picking up at his pale lips, and Asahi would stand there in front of him, watch as his face turn from dim—assuming there _had_ been a side to Nishinoya that would do so—to utterly vibrant.

And the headband. Boy, was it stupid for him to buy something that only _he_ used during practice? Would Nishinoya even like that, though? Wasn’t that being a bit too selfish? _Oh well_ , thought Asahi, _it’s not like I’ll ever be able to give these to him. Might as well use it for Nationals._

It was located in the pockets of his backpack, wrapped in pink crepe paper like a pineapple. Somewhere to the left. Or was it the right? Asahi couldn’t seem to find a will to care. All he ever was going to do was walk with Nishinoya. Nothing special. It was _a walk._

“Are you ready to go?” Nishinoya queried, gripping the strap of his own messenger bag. Asahi slid the classroom door behind him shut, and took a deep breath. _Take it easy. We’ll be at the gym in no time._

“Mm,” hummed Asahi, turning to Nishinoya, and the two fell into pace as they trudged down the nearly empty halls adorned with light orange light from the windows. Nishinoya must have been talking for the whole time being, but Asahi failed to pay any attention, too focused on keeping his head cool.

What if he broke out about the gifts?

Should he have taped his mouth after all?

Soon enough, the two were by the stairwell. One more floor, and they were in direct contact with the ground; they would be at the gym before they would notice. Asahi had figured things were going along smoothly. _Chocolates, later, tonight_ , thought the ace, taking his first step down the stairs. _What shows are on by ten, though? Have I stayed up that late before?_

“Asahi-san!” bellowed the libero’s voice behind him.

He froze in his steps. Asahi felt a little bit better. He didn’t feel like regretting about the gifts he’d never be able to give Nishinoya before he graduated. When he turned, his expression was made sure to be soft. No, he was not going to let any other emotion surface. He _was_ feeling better, wasn’t he?

“Yes?”

All Asahi could lay his eyes on were silhouettes—one was Nishinoya, the other… he didn’t really see. When the younger male stepped closer, Asahi’s heart skipped a beat. _Is that a bouquet?_

“I like you,” Nishinoya told him, stepping close enough until Asahi could make out the features of his face. The firm hand that had saved so many balls for him during matches, the same hand that held a whole team up with his reliability, was wrapping its fingers around the base of a bouquet _tightly_ —not only that, but it was also in his direction. Determined eyes, with narrow slits embraced by his almost golden orbs, were staring Asahi right down his very soul.

“Nishinoya,” the senior began, lifting a hand to scratch lightly at the back of his head.

The next words that the sophomore released were the ones that made Asahi’s jaw slacken:

“Please go out with me.”


	3. The Plight of Sugawara Koushi (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sugawara is a princess of his own fairytale, and his knight in shining armor threw her a note that read:
> 
> Koushi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, you might be mad about CUTTING THE ASANOYA for a while. 
> 
> I'm not entirely sorry. 
> 
> I live and breathe for DaiSuga. 
> 
> I warned you guys about the alternating pattern. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy. This'll probably a ride.
> 
> I enjoyed writing this, too :3 I hope you guys don't mind, but I just wanted to add a little playful side to Daichi Sawamura. Don't get me wrong, he's PERFECTION himself, but I just wanted to try it out. Too cringy? That's fine. Just skip xD 
> 
> Time to stop writing for tonight. I shall now be working on my Noli me Tangere report. See ya'll tomorrow. It's Valentine's! 
> 
> \- Kei (Twitter: @die_tsukki)

Suga had always been a dreamer.

Ever since he was little, he had taken great interest of the fantasy books his mother would read to him every night, and there, in his bed, he would fall asleep right before the happy endings so he could form them himself in his dreams. Once, he had dreamed of dragons guarding the most beautiful palace, where inside was a princess, awaiting rescue from the shiny-armored knight of a neighboring kingdom. Another time, he had dreamed of snakes coiling around a blacksmith’s body, squeezing the life out of him, but then a huntsman runs into the scene and kills the creatures one-by-one, revealing that they were actually demons trying to possess the body of the greatest swords-maker so they could take over the world.

Yes, Sugawara was a troubled child. Those weren’t supposed to be the dreams of a five-year-old, but he was too far from saving—Suga had fallen in love with the stories that only existed in fairytales. And this was a secret he had kept hidden for so long ever since he’d been bullied in elementary school for bringing one of his favorite books to school so he could share his favorite tales.

Suga was the princess in his earliest dreams, waiting, crying, helpless as shackled by the surrounding dragons around him—society, labeling him ‘gay’ for liking things ‘only girls’ have to like—and although he was perfectly aware that people change and that story dated back to nearly a decade ago, he hadn’t shaken off that fear of being mistreated.

It was better off that he shut up about it.

“—wara.”

The silver-haired male snapped into reality, blinking multiple times before his eyes were able to focus on the teacher whose face loomed over him. Suga’s eyes darted around, catching glimpses of other students who had their curious eyes fixated on him and only him. _How long was I out?_

“Y-Yes, sensei,” stammered Suga, lacing his fingers together, avoiding from fidgeting.

“That was the fourth time I called you. Are you okay?”

In a mild panic, Sugawara bolted up, waving the teacher off dismissively with a small smile. “Ah, no, no! It was nothing, sensei! I was, erm, having a quick thought about—” he passively looked at the board to read the writings, “—l-linear equations! We’re having that lesson again, aren’t we? A review for the upcoming entrance exams?”

As soon as his excuse was deemed good enough to pass, his teacher shrugged before moving back towards the board, a piece of chalk in hand. A sigh of relief escaped Sugawara’s lips as he sat himself back down, slumping against the backrest of his chair. “That was close,” the male mumbled under his breath, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Really,” agreed a voice to his right. “You were spacing out for five minutes.”

Sugawara had always been a dreamer, and was in love with fantasy for as long as he could remember—but there was this _one_ boy at school—his class—that looked more like the bridge between them. Someone who was _too_ good to be real. Annoyingly so.

One look and Suga’s mind would instantly bring back the dream, where, alas, his knight in shining armor had come, crossing the valley, a sword in his hands, his grip so tight, Sugawara could imagine his knuckles turning white, but this time, with a face—one that he could see every single day if only he would turn right, and Sugawara did. All the time. It sounded so _cliché_ , but Sugawara had no control of it.

If that _was_ love, well… Sugawara figured being labeled ‘gay’ in his youth wouldn’t be _so_ bad.

Well, indeed, he was. In high school.

For fucking Sawamura Daichi.

 _Shit._ Sugawara was staring—he had realized so a minute too late.

“Suga, you keep spacing out,” the captain managed, chuckling into his hand.

“Don’t laugh,” the silver-haired male replied, his lips downturned into a pout. “That is _so_ rude.”

Daichi offered a half-hearted apology as he calmed himself down before his laughter boomed all throughout the room. No one wanted to catch the attention of any teacher, and the fact that Sugawara just got caught must have appealed funny to the captain’s eyes. He couldn’t see anything wrong with Daichi laughing even if it _was_ him whom he had found comical—Sugawara took this as more of an advantage to keep looking at him.

He wanted to see Daichi in his dreams, because never once had he seen the captain as the armored knight about to slay dragons—that is, if _daydreaming_ in the middle of class didn’t count. If it did, then, Daichi had invaded every single trance.

“You’re doing it again.” Sugawara blinked. Daichi was then scribbling on a piece of paper, and without turning to the vice-captain, continued to speak, “You should be taking notes, Suga.”

“ _You’re_ the captain of the team.” Sugawara tried his best not to slam his fists on the table when their little exchange of bickering piqued him. Small talks like that, in the middle of class, with risks of both being seen and heard on high, always felt special to Suga. A part of him hoped it was the same for Daichi. “You’re supposed to be the mature one. I can’t comprehend as to why you’re like this when we’re together _every single time_.”

Finally, Daichi turned to face the setter with a quirked brow and perked ears. “ _Mature_?”

“You’re the goddamn father of Karasuno’s Male Volley Club. Why do you think others look up to you?” Sugawara sat back and sighed, his fingers pressed up against his forehead. “Do you _ever_ just scold yourself in front of the mirror just to see why _everyone_ steps back when you’re annoyed?”

“Dunno,” was all he could say.

 _Dunno_.

Dun- _fucking_ -no?

Was that all he could do in response?

Sugawara was ready for an argument—yes, in the middle of class. He opened his mouth to retort, turning to Daichi with a quick whir of his head, only to find the captain looking at him, with his eyes soft as they watched Suga, a small smile tugging at his lips. _He’s toying with me on purpose_ , Sugawara chided himself. _Koushi, you’ve been friends for years. How did you_ not _see that coming?_ With a huff, the setter turned back to the window. _Stop tolerating it._

“Don’t avoid me.”

“Too late.”

“Is there a problem, boys?” came a new voice. Sugawara’s blood ran cold. _Sure, get noticed when we’re done. Amazing._ His eyes flickered towards the teacher up front, then back to the window. A few more seconds of silence, enduring all the odd—and possibly pestered—looks of their classmates. ‘The second time Sugawara gets told off today,’ they must have been thinking, Suga had guessed.

“None, sensei,” Daichi responded. “We apologize for the interruption.”

A small grin tugged at Suga’s lips. When the teacher went on with the lesson, Suga turned back to his partner, his chin placed on his palm. “Mature,” he noted, proving the point he brought up _ages_ ago, “and formal. _Very_ captain-like. Dad-like.”

“Do you get to be the mother?” Daichi mumbled back.

Suga blinked, jolting in his seat. “What?”

“Nothing.”

Daichi was silent for a while, leaving Sugawara to his thoughts. _Does that count as flirting?_ He couldn’t just ignore that _one_ statement now, could he? Sugawara found himself feeling his own lips, running his thumb over the dried cracks before eventually licking to wet them. _What am I doing?_ Sugawara queried himself, tucking his hands into his desk. He wasn’t thinking of kissing, was he?

He stole a side-glance at Daichi. _He didn’t mean it._ Disappointing. _Probably._

Someone so childish around Suga, but so superior with other people. Sugawara took a mental note to get a recording of the captain scolding the first year duo, then he’d show it to Daichi just to point out how terrifying he could be. Was he _that_ lacking on self-awareness the whole time? How odd.

“Suga.”

“No,” he instantly replied.

“Please.”

“We’ll get in trouble again.”

Silence.

Somehow, _not_ turning to him worked. Suga was almost satisfied, but only a moment later had Daichi thrown him a rolled piece of paper, making a small and barely audible shuffling sound as the asymmetrical scroll hit his arm, bouncing off onto the wooden surface of his desk. “Just… later, then,” Daichi continued. He hadn’t spoken anymore after.

Sugawara carefully grabbed the note and began unfurling it, only to find the message written across in Daichi’s writing:

_Koushi._

Only one thing occupied the princess’ mind during the time, and that one thing must have been painted right across his face as he sat in his desk: _Fuck._


	4. The Plight of Sugawara Koushi (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sugawara loves his knight. And this love will never be unrequited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second chapter, and this is the final chapter for DaiSuga! Sorry, if it's shorter than AsaNoya, and I'm sorry if my shitty writing isn't making this all fluffier enough, but I did what i could, but I'll do my best to produce better works the next time around. 
> 
>  
> 
> Please enjoy the final chapter of DaiSuga! But don't worry, I'll see to it that they make some more appearances the next chapters :3
> 
> More importantly, this story might go on for the whole of February. I originally planned for a week-long writing challenge for my Haikyuu ships, but school's been holding me back (especially that Robotics elective, we're doing animation this quarter). So, yes! 
> 
> I'll still follow the timeline, however. 
> 
> And please look forward to more of these! I'll assure you all that I'll do my best to satisfy your needs. Leave a kudos if you guys enjoyed!
> 
> \- Kei (Twitter: @die_tsukki)

“What?”

“What do you mean ‘what,’ _Sawamura_?”

Sugawara was _exasperated_. He would have been lying if he said he had not spent the rest of the afternoon pondering about Daichi’s message. What a sick move, passing him a note with his own given name as if he didn’t know it or how to spell it in freaking Kanji.

The silver-haired male ran a hand through his scalp as a sigh absconded his lips. He could not quite grasp the situation, however. Was that Daichi, trying to make a move, surprisingly stupid at how dating worked? Or was that just Suga—someone with the wildest imagination flying in all directions—letting himself get taken into the moment, blindly grabbing at such a grand opportunity, silently fangirling over the fact that his knight had _indirectly_ called him by the given name?

His eyes darted towards the captain walking alongside him, catching unnecessary glimpses of other students in their grade bustling through the corridor. Daichi looked preoccupied, his eyes felt as though they had a faded haze over them as his dark-colored orbs were fixated on his shoes. Or at least, Suga figured he was looking at his shoes.

Initially, Sugawara’s heart had _soared_. This type of warmth he could never be able to describe erupted from his chest, and it circulated throughout his body, leaving a slight tingle in his fingertips. Utter happiness that came from reading his own given name in kanji. Acting like what the princess must have felt with the sight of someone coming to her aide—that was probably how it seemed.

Eventually, his thoughts doubled over. Sure, if Daichi had meant to do that _on Valentine’s_ , of all days, Suga would take that as… a way of asking him out. But that certainly did not diminish the probability of him just messing around, especially with Suga. What if _that_ really wasn’t the knight coming to pick Sugawara off the ground and save him from the shackles of the reality he was born with?

Selfish, as it may have seemed, but Sugawara would not stand doing this game any further. He was _confirming_ it, so things would be settled between him and the captain. He might have just been beating around the bush the whole time. It was Valentine’s Day, after all. Was that not the perfect time for a heartfelt confession?

Confessions. Oh, how Suga despised them. Voicing out the words hidden deep within his core, some so selfish to do like acts of giving others guilt for making them fall. Sugawara was willing to do it, though. If he was not to overcome something as a misunderstanding with a person, let alone, the person he likes, how was he supposed to take care of a whole team?

Daichi wouldn’t hate him for growing a small crush on him, would he? After all, wasn’t he the only one, besides Asahi, who knew about Suga being gay? Surely, he’d understand. They’ve been friends for three years.

Sugawara had faith. Daichi would _never_ hate Suga.

The silver-haired male clutched his chest, trying to ease the pain. Who was he kidding? Just because he trusted Daichi so much didn’t mean he knew him completely. Recalling every little thing he knew about Daichi—they were friends for years, but only then had Suga realized he had known nothing important about the captain aside from the fact that he had double personalities and would race _anyone_ to the cafeteria for food.

They were little things, but they felt so vital in befriending the captain.

Suga took a deep breath, releasing his hold on the fabric of his uniform and letting his arm fall to his side. _All or nothing_. “Listen, Daichi,” Sugawara began, his fingers unconsciously fidgeting with the hem of his top. “About my name… what was that for?”

“Oh, well, you know—”

Suga could see the words hurtling towards him. Some full of hate, some full of intimacy—something so mixed up, he began fearing what he had been asking for. _Maybe things should have stayed the way they did…?_ His breathing was controlled, and Suga figured that might have just been luck.

Because, really, a nervous Suga would be hyperventilating.

And maybe run off to someplace far away.

Daichi had his mouth open to continue his speech, when then chimed in a person none of the two had known, with a bright smile, running in their direction. He must have been a second year, Suga had guessed. He was sure he hadn’t seen _those_ brown locks of hair in their building before. The seniors exchanged looks, then turned their attention back to their new acquaintance. “Akane-san!” cried he, bounding towards him and Daichi. With his right arm finally clearing, Suga spotted a bouquet of flowers in hand, where there hung a tag, swimming in the air like a kite would. Upon getting right in front of them, the student had softly spoken out his excuses, before cutting through in between the third years.

Sugawara had noted Daichi turning to look, and unconsciously began to follow his lead. Behind them was a third-year they both were familiar with, Tachibana Akane, a girl from one of the neighboring classes, with her red hair tied up with a red bow and a smile that morphed out of surprise tugging at her soft pink lips as she accepted the flowers from her junior. “Thank you, Nishikata-san,” she dipped her head as if to smell the flowers beckoning her to come closer. “They’re very lovely.”

 _Her eyes are glittering_ , Suga thought, feeling his features soften. Seeing such a precious view before them… well, who wouldn’t smile? Sugawara was glad to be there, able to appreciate a moment he guessed both people had wanted to stay frozen forever. _Could the princess be that happy, too, I wonder?_

“I’m sorry I’m not as flashy,” chuckled Daichi, nudging Suga by the elbow by accident when he inserted his hand into his pocket. Had it meant to be a laugh, it wasn’t obvious. Daichi’s eyes were still hazy, and his thoughts felt so far away from him. “I wanted to confess to you just as good. I didn’t know you were into those things as well. Seeing you smile right now… makes me think you want to accept gifts like those, too. I guess I can’t compare to them, after all.”

Sugawara’s heart stopped, but as soon as he realized, it began beating to life once more, far more rapidly than it should have. His hand was clasped around Daichi’s wrist as he dragged him outside and to the back of the same building, where there sat the garden—silent as it was, it had served as a home to many a tree. Most of the leaves had gone during the winter, but Sugawara found out that he _had_ appreciated the icicles that decorated the bare branches.

“Suga—” Daichi began, but the setter refused to let him speak further.

“No, I will _not_ forgive you!” Sugawara boomed, hitting a fist against Daichi’s chest. He had not meant for it to be strong enough to reel him back or make him fall on his behind so he could laugh at his wrecked state. But Sugawara wasn’t done, and a small spark of rage had grown inside of his lungs, it seemed like a fire that stole the very oxygen he could breathe. “How _dare_ you—confessing to me so passively in a corridor! Where people could see! Hear! I thought you said you weren’t flashy!”

“Well, I wanted to, now that I finally found out that—”

“I _like_ the Daichi who isn’t flashy at all!”

Sugawara’s skin was burning, and so was every ounce of blood that began combusting as soon as he had finished talking. He dipped his head, a new warmth in his eyes—he couldn’t tell what the tears were for, but Sugawara knew he was glad. Now, if only he could express it well… and not cry, it would have helped the two of them greatly.

“Just… don’t mislead me the next time.” Sugawara managed between stifled sobs. His free hand clamped over his mouth to block out any bawling noise that dared to abscond without him knowing. “It’s annoying, you know…? Pondering the whole day over one little thing you did that concerned me… it’s annoying.”

Silence.

Had Suga spoken too much?

“I understand.” Alas, came Daichi’s reply, and wrapping around Suga were two arms holding him closer, firmly, like a grip he wouldn’t want to let go. His head lain on his shoulder, “I’m sorry.”

The silver-haired boy pouted, but with his head buried in the crook of the captain’s neck, “This—this is exactly why you’re _supposed_ to be mature… you’re supposed to be thinking things through, damn it. You’re supposed to be better than me when it all comes down to the reality we’re facing, Daichi.”

“I’m sorry,” the taller boy spoke. Sugawara resolved by hearing his best friend’s soft breathing, and the slow pounding of his heart. The wind blew in his ears, but the silver-haired male decided to ignore it, at least for a while, just until he could no longer tolerate such. “So,” interrupted Daichi, stroking the back of Sugawara’s head with a gentle hand, “are we—?”

Sugawara chimed in dryly, “I’m still not forgiving you so don’t you dare think we’re dating.”

“Not exactly what I was accounting for, honestly,” stated Daichi. “Is that what you really want—?”

“We’re dating _after_ you take me to the movies this Saturday, you big dork.”

Sugawara hadn’t seen it, but in the knight’s arms, he could feel his jaw against the top of his head, alerting him of a smile that had been painted right across his face. “We’re going on a date, then.” Daichi pulled away, much to the setter’s dismay, but Suga decided not to let it show. The hug was more than enough. “We should probably go back in.”

“Eh? So soon? I like this garden, you know.”

“Suga.”

“It has a nice view of the school grove!”

“Suga,” Daichi repeated, holding him by the shoulders.

“What?”

“You dragged the both of us outside with our indoor shoes on.”

 

“It looks like snow tonight.”

Daichi pulled his shirt over his head, ruffling his hair soon after. Suga _definitely_ wasn’t staring when the captain’s eyes darted towards the window. “Mm, probably. Did the weather report say anything?”

“Not that I know of,” Suga shrugged, smirking victoriously. “Wanna grab ice cream after practice, Daichi?”

“Ice cream,” mimicked the ravenette flatly, without turning to his partner. “In winter.”

“Do you have any better ideas, then, _Captain_?”

Daichi paused mid-producing his shirt from his locker. With a small grunt escaping his throat in thought, he shut the compartment closed before suggesting, “Why not a full course dinner, then?”


	5. The Plight of Azumane Asahi (3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Showing him would be better than telling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, it's me, Kei. I hadn't updated yesterday because I was out celebrating with a couple of friends, going on flipping bottle tournament in a bedroom until seven in the evening. I arrived at home by 8, and now I'm basically grounded. So I won't be going anywhere for a while. 
> 
> Anyhoot, it's past Valentine's but I'll be updating this story, still. Hopefully I can finish it completely by the end of February. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this one. Have a great day. 
> 
> \- Kei

“What?”

“It is what it is. Please go out with me.”

Asahi’s mind began processing the information being folded out in front of him.

First of all, what the fuck.

Second, what the _fuck_.

The senior’s gaze was fixated on the bouquet laid before him, held by a hand so firm Asahi was sure he never would have pulled off a similar confession. His skin was burning—probably from the embarrassment—and as much as he had wanted to speak, his voice died in his throat. He was sure if he had done his best attempt, all that Nishinoya would fathom was a mere squeak.

It took five seconds of staring for Asahi to notice _one_ important detail: Nishinoya bought Asahi the same bouquet the latter purchased from Nanase-san for him. Did they buy _the same_ thing from _the same_ flower shop?

God, Asahi’s mind was running all over the place. He couldn’t catch the drift. He didn’t know what on earth he had to be focusing on. What was he supposed to do now?

Asahi was already beginning to live with the mind-set that he _never_ took on the chance to confess properly to Nishinoya, and he already had plans of finishing off the chocolate he had bought. He could easily find a place for the flowers, probably put them in his mother’s old ceramic vases (either way, she was gone, and Asahi was certain she wouldn’t mind—the flowers were lovely, no matter how one would look at them) and the headband would definitely not go to waste.

But there Nishinoya was, holding out an identical bouquet to him mid-stairway, uncaring whether other people would pass by to see, as if his main priority had—not only confess to Asahi—but also ask him out properly for a relationship the senior had not seen coming, nor planned for in his case.

Asahi wanted to bury himself alive.

“Well?” queried Nishinoya, his tone giving away to his veiled impatience. “Do I get an answer?”

The senior took a large gulp he had hoped wasn’t audible. “I, uh—”

“I can hold this to you until you give me a proper reply this time,” Noya chimed in. “And I’m _very_ serious.”

“A-A proper reply?”

Nishinoya shrugged, turning his head away from the senior in thought, and replied, “Well, remember the fight we had before? The one after last year’s Date Tech match?”

Asahi knew Nishinoya hadn’t been meeting his eyes, but nonetheless, the older male averted his gaze, lowering it to his shoes. _Who would ever forget that fight?_ In his mind the whole scene played out—Nishinoya yelling behind him as he mercilessly left him out on the corridor for all people around them to see. He hadn’t turned to look, but Asahi knew the dean had stepped out, and the next thing he knew was the sound of breaking glass, and as the ace walked further off, the sound of the vice-principal reprimanding the libero who only wanted to get him back into the team to face them all head-on. In his mind’s eye, he could picture Nishinoya in the storage area, enraged just as Asahi was, and his voice recurring in the empty halls of his brain.

The way Asahi’s arm fell to his side, in pity of himself who was too scared of calling for a toss, the image of Nishinoya who stood right beside him, doing his best to get him back up on his feet… the sight of his whole team trying their best to make way for him to score—Asahi hadn’t realized how much it had affected him _still_ even after the arrival of the first year duo that helped Karasuno take its revenge.

“Yeah,” Asahi managed, his voice loud enough for Nishinoya to hear. “I remember.”

“You apologized to me right after the first match we had with Coach’s volley association.”

Nishinoya took a step forward. “Only then did you admit to me that you had been carried away by the momentum of our situation, with me yelling, with your pent up frustration. You hadn’t been able to tell me the truth; you told me all the words I received were the exact opposite of what you’ve meant to say.”

One more step.

 _Don’t come any closer._ Asahi could feel himself quivering, his hands balled into fists at his sides. He couldn’t look back at the libero, and he stood there, forcing himself to keep a straight face, because if ever he hesitated even for a moment, he knew he’d cry—a sight he would prefer if Nishinoya hadn’t been around, let alone, confessed. _I can’t face you._

Two steps.

“Asahi-san, do you hate me?”

Asahi gasped, whipping towards him. In his face, right below his chin, there were the flowers that by the littlest gap, he could have brushed against them. Asahi wafted the mild smell of scented paper. “I don’t!” he responded. When Nishinoya winced from the volume, Asahi retracted, stepping back with a hand clamped over his mouth upon realizing what he had just done. “S-sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine.”

“Nishinoya—I…” Asahi took a deep breath, lowering his arm. _It’s now or never._ He could hear his heart ringing in his ears, he could feel the pressure blowing up from his lungs. Something felt heavier in his chest, and Asahi knew it himself: there was only one way to alleviate the pain. “I just… I couldn’t—”

“This’d be a lot easier if you told me how you really felt,” Nishinoya tilted his head. His eyes bore no emotion, they were almost listless as they burned holes into Asahi’s soul. He looked determined— _too_ determined—and it made Asahi think he wasn’t going to accept anything other than a yes. _Which really_ is _what I’ve wanted to say from the very beginning, though_ , and that was no lie. “Do you, or do you not like me, Asahi-san?”

If Asahi were to reply immediately, Nishinoya would think too little of him.

If Asahi were to reply a minute too late, Nishinoya would think he was beginning to look at the merits.

 _When would be the right time to reply?_ Asahi pondered. That was until the breath hitched in his throat when his eyes caught sight of Nishinoya’s right arm shivering, more likely from the fatigue. The libero must have noticed when he added on, “I am a man of my word! I’ll hold this out until you give me a proper reply!”

“A proper reply,” Asahi began, taking out his bag. He was feeling uneasy about it, but he couldn’t bear to see Nishinoya doing _all_ of this for him. If only he could be a little bit braver, then perhaps… Perhaps things would turn out just fine, with the ending the both of them clearly desired. “If I told you how I feel, would you believe me?”

“That depends,” Nishinoya answered. Asahi caught him attempting to hold up his other arm with his left.

“If I can’t tell you, then… I hope it counts if I show you, instead.” Asahi carefully unzipped his bag, but knowing him, he was certain he’d fumble for the objects. The only thing that kept him away from his own self-deprecation was his own chiding that: _this is for Nishinoya_. An odd drive, but it felt right to Asahi, and it felt amazing to have done something for someone else, especially if _that_ someone else, had played such a large role in his life, he couldn’t even find the beginning of it all and how they met.

He placed his bag down and began rummaging. As soon as his fingers closed around the bouquet, he held it out, almost hitting the younger boy in the process. “I, um, bought this for you,” Asahi announced, doing his best not to run off or show even the littlest sign of unease.

Nishinoya’s eyes grew wide at the sight, almost dropping his own gift for Asahi. His gaze shifted from the flowers to Asahi then back. “Are you for real?” he questioned blankly. He blinked, checking whether or not this had happened.

“I’m guessing we bought ourselves the same gift from the same store,” Asahi spoke, chuckling. He felt… better, so natural that he worked up the initiative to grab hold of Nishinoya’s gift, claiming it as his own, before saying, “Won’t you take yours, too?”

Nishinoya looked like he wanted to pounce on Asahi then and there. The older male had to remind him that they were standing in a stairwell. “Can you settle for a hug?” asked Nishinoya.

“Well, if, uh, you assure me we don’t… you know, tumble off to our deaths.”

The sophomore broke out into a grin, and wasted no time. With his gift in hand, he threw his arms around the ace, his only words being, “I love you, I love you, I love you!” His head buried itself into Asahi’s chest, only to produce a muffled, “I honestly thought you were going to reject me then and there! God, Asahi-san, did you have _any_ idea how much I’ve been thinking of this?”

Breaking back into his character, Asahi noted, and only smiled. It was the hyper libero that had saved him way too many times, inside and outside matches, and now he was in his arms, holding on like a month-old bunny separated from its mother for a day. “No,” he answered, “but I’m sure you’ve gotten into a lot of trances. You looked… kind of listless earlier.”

“Eh? I did?” Nishinoya stepped back, shock clearly spread across his face.

Asahi was just as confused. “You didn’t notice?”

“I didn’t! The heck?” Nishinoya looked down at the bouquet, feeling the petals one by one as if curious about a varying softness. “They really _are_ the same. How strange.”

Asahi would have stood there for years, staring at a content Nishinoya standing in front of him, if only he hadn’t recalled that he had other gifts inside his bag. Now that he was able to give the first one… what would two others do?

Make Nishinoya leap off of the stairwell and back out onto the previous floor, apparently.

“Asahi-san!” the younger boy _screamed_ , hugging the headband close to his chest, his eyes sparkling. “You got this _for me_? I love it! And this—” he lifted the box of chocolates up to the ceiling, “—is just _seriously_ amazing! Damn it, I should have bought you some of these, too! We could have shared them! Urgh!”

Nishinoya curled into a little ball on the floor, weeping silently to himself, only to scare the senior. “Ah, N-N-Nishinoya, are you…?”

“I’m fine,” he declared, as if predicting Asahi would ask that. He hopped to his feet, his eyes glossed with tears. Nishinoya kept blinking. “I _will_ be, at least. I feel horrible now that I know you’ve gotten me more than one gift. It’s so frustrating.”

Asahi’s heart clenched at the statement he had just heard. To think that Nishinoya also thought of those things the way he did… honestly, how much did Asahi know about the libero? _It doesn’t matter now_ , Asahi thought. _I can definitely ask him whatever from now on._ “Do you want me to, erm, help you into wearing the headband?”

He cried, “Do _I_?”

Asahi had never remembered standing that close to Nishinoya before the hug moments back, but he was sure he was supposed to get used to it. Of course, he kept stuttering, but he could work on that _any_ time. Asahi adjusted the headband along Nishinoya’s hairline, moving it with practiced fingers, with care to reduce the risk of pulling at the younger male’s strands. “We could just leave the fringe,” he began explaining. “It’s one of your assets, isn’t it…?”

“Asahi-san.” Nishinoya whipped his head up so quick, Asahi was glad he had let go of the headband or else it might have smacked the sophomore up right on the forehead. “Let’s stop by a café later. I’ll treat you.”

“Y-you don’t have to pay for me,” Asahi refused.

“I _have_ to! You bought me so many amazing gifts, even a headband that’d make us match! Don’t you want my heart to go to rest? Or are you willing to keep me regretting this day for the rest of my life?”

Asahi hadn’t intended to keep up a fight with him, not on the first day they got together. He resolved by letting a smile take place, and nodding once as he spoke softly, “Let’s go after practice, then.”


	6. The Plight of Akaashi Keiji (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi never thought he'd live to see the day when Bokuto doesn't ask for a toss, but instead asks for a girlfriend via a literature project.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's me. Again. 
> 
> I can't possibly just let February slip through my fingers without posting a BokuAka fic, I mean, OTP, man!
> 
> Anyway, I might be busy for a while, as well. I'm working on a few more short stories (not fanfics this time) so I could send them over to the admins of the maiden issue of the city's new publication. They're accepting pieces of all sorts, and I'm definitely not throwing away my shot. 
> 
> //NOT THROWING AWAY MY SHOT!  
> //I AM NOT THROWING AWAY MY  
> //SHOT  
> //I AM NOT THROWING AWAY MY  
> //SHOT  
> //AND YO, I'M JUST LIKE MY COUNTRY  
> //I'M YOUNG CRAPPY AND HUNGRY
> 
> Okay, please do go on while I cry over chapter 290. 
> 
> \- Kei

Akaashi would have been lying if he said he wasn’t worried about Bokuto. After all, the captain had been seated for a whole hour now, hunched over the bench, writing on the uneven surface the wooden planks had provided him. If ever Bokuto’s lips were to part, the reason had always been either to occasionally breathe through his mouth, or to wet the chapping, and nothing more.

The setter was not prepared, let alone, had not expected to live the day when Bokuto wouldn’t bug him for a toss. His silence was beginning to unnerve the second-year, and the feeling nagged at the back of Akaashi’s mind ever since the first five minutes Bokuto’s voice died due to his attempts at concentrating.

Yes, he was an annoying idiot. But Akaashi wanted to hear that old and cocky, “Hey, hey, hey!” in the fear of him forgetting the warming sensation it provided whenever they escaped the captain’s mouth.

Perhaps he was just missing the usual volume that would bring the four walls of the gym to life in his lonesome. Yes, perhaps that was the reason.

Akaashi _tried_ to ask what was going on, and what on earth had gotten into him that he got himself into writing. Akaashi, being Bokuto’s personal setter, was fully aware of Bokuto being in the literature course, but this was just weird. And provoking. He could have understood if he was studying for exams—because in reality Bokuto would come to _him_ for help—but Akaashi swore Bokuto had already gone past that period, because he was scouted for Meiji as a sports scholar all due to the fact that “Kuroo’s also coming along.”

Bokuto was the human highlight reel—no, Akaashi’s highlight reel. Whatever the setter did, even if the whole team told the vice-captain to leave Bokuto be and distract himself with playing, Akaashi’s eyes would always, _always_ , find their way to catch a glimpse of the captain right after every single toss he would do.

He had even forgotten to reflect on them, as well.

To relieve Akaashi of his curiosity—and perhaps his urge to pull that idiot back into the game—he _tried_ to talk to him. And talking would require approaching, because no way would he be yelling across the whole bloody court just to have a conversation with Bokuto, but in the captain’s case, that would have been _very_ easy, and convenient.

And so Akaashi trudged towards the opposite end of the court, holding on to his towel and bottle during a five-minute break, gathering his bearings, preparing for the first thing he had to tell the captain so he could waste none of their time. “Don’t,” a new voice spoke, just as a warm hand held Akaashi by the shoulder. The setter turned to face the speaker, only to face Konoha, offering him a small smile. “Bokuto’s just busy with an assignment.”

The setter’s eyes went towards the captain who sat a few meters away from him, and back at Konoha. _Why didn’t he tell me?_ “Is it overdue?” Akaashi turned to Bokuto’s direction. “Then, if that’s the case, I could be of help to—”

“No.” And once again, Akaashi had been stopped in his tracks. “You’re spoiling the guy. Let him make his own decisions this time. Surely, you’d understand, wouldn’t you, Akaashi?”

Akaashi fell silent, just as his gaze gravitated towards his shoes, his head dipped. _It’s Valentine’s Day_ , he thought to himself, his grip on his towel tightening so much his knuckles turned white. _He should be spending this day with a game. Doesn’t that make him happy?_

Akaashi didn’t feel like denying it—he _had_ plans of confessing to Bokuto. _Had_.

Akaashi had replayed the scene over and over his head, silently practicing his lines, and how he would have to do it for the guarantee of the flow going _just_ right. He even had a back-up plan of how he was going to save himself if in case Bokuto were to turn him down then and there—Akaashi wasn’t going to force him into going out, either way. It was far too troublesome to do so, and way out of his character.

Plus, Bokuto didn’t show any signs of being into males. He had _a lot_ of fangirls from every grade, however.

Nonetheless, throwing the captain one more look, Akaashi felt his chest grow heavier. Spoilt plans were tolerable, but seeing him _not_ being the noisy him Akaashi had gradually grown fond of, he sort of felt a little restless, much less, disappointed. _Oh, well_ , thought the setter, sending Konoha a nod. _I suppose it would save me the pain of going through a direct rejection. Things are fine as they are now._

Right before Konoha would jog off into a different direction, Akaashi made him pause with one last question, “If you don’t mind me asking, Konoha-san.”

“Yes?”

“What kind of assignment is it?”

“Oh. Bokuto mentioned something about a love letter for his sixth period? Probably Modern Lit class, I don’t really know. Said it was for a girl or some sort.”

And that was the confirmation.

Akaashi’s eyes relaxed, but his heart was beating in a deafening manner inside his chest. The last thing he wanted was suffocating out of nothing. _So he_ does _have someone in mind_ , he thought, giving Bokuto another long look—the longest he’d done that evening. _That’s fine. He needs to get himself a girlfriend in the near future that’d back him up in university, anyway._

Unconsciously, Akaashi’s hand reached up to clutch the fabric of the sports bib right above his chest. _I won’t be joining him in another year and in the same period, we wouldn’t even meet._

“Everything alright, Akaashi-kun?” Konoha queried, his face bobbing into the setter’s field of vision.

Akaashi snapped back with mild surprise, his arm falling down to his side. A fake, soft smile tugged on his thin lips as he uttered, “Ah, yes, yes, it’s all fine. I wasn’t aware Bokuto had someone in mind. It sort of breaks his childish character, it’s almost funny. Someone who caused the team so much trouble with his episodes… growing up, isn’t he?”

Konoha chuckled, following Akaashi’s trail of vision. “Definitely.”

_You’ll be happy. Won’t you, Bokuto-san?_


	7. The Plight of Yachi Hitoka (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A newly-established relationship in a nearly empty cafe. What could go wrong, Yachi wonders. 
> 
> Everything, she replies to herself. Shi... Kiyoko is capable of leaving her at any moment, after all. So why should it matter?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter I hoped I'd finish off within five pages, but really I need more than that. I'll do it in the morning. I'm sleepy, and my groupmates wore me out during this afternoon's voice acting recording for an English project. I haven't gotten any proper sleep, too, so here's for today's entry: a KiyoYachi special, which I hope comes along just right to your enjoyment. 
> 
> Tomorrow, I hope I'll be able to post for my BokuAka special, plus the Werewolf AU I have for the same ship. 
> 
> Thank you for the continual support, you guys! It makes me feel happy to read the comments about how cute AsaNoya had gone so I'm trying my best to stray from the path of angst, but right now I have a strong feeling I'm slowly gravitating towards it AGAIN. 
> 
> Anyhoot, skip my rambling, and go read. 
> 
> \- Kei

“We’re ending practice early today.”

And that was as far as Yachi could remember back when she was at school. She could not recall why on earth Shimizu-senpai was sitting across from her at a table for two, but the blonde had been too taken up into the situation that she couldn’t even bring herself to care about the reason anymore.

“Hitoka-chan,” Shimizu began. Much to Yachi’s surprise, she felt her senior’s hand clamp around hers, and the younger girl looked up to face her. She could feel her skin burning, her eyes searching for another pair around them who had set their gaze on the two managers. _Doesn’t she feel embarrassed about this?_ Yachi thought, fumbling with the hem of her skirt with a free hand. “Are you hungry?”

“A-Ah, n-n-no… Well, n-not yet! I mean—,” she paused to control her volume. _Keep it together!_ “I-I can wait… it’s tolerable.”

“Don’t worry. Our sandwiches should be here soon.”

Yachi decided to let her gaze fall on Shimizu, taking advantage of the senior’s head turning away from her and out the window. Her raven-colored hair was tied into a loose ponytail with a pink hairband that Yachi gave her earlier that day. Behind the black rims of her glasses were her eyes, reflecting the pale colors of the winter sunset outside.

This was a date—or at least, it was supposed to be.

It wasn’t anything classy. First of all, both of them wore their school uniforms, and they took off their coats, leaving them to hang over their respective back rests, long before they even sat. Whether making stops after school was allowed, or not, Yachi hadn’t known, but she was hoping the both of them weren’t violating any rules.

Second, it was a café two blocks away from Karasuno High. Anyone around them could be anyone they knew. Surprisingly, the café wasn’t packed to the brim, and only a few other couples were inside the space. Most people would probably at karaoke or at mixers, but it wasn’t as though Yachi had known what _actually_ happened in those places. Not like she had experienced any.

Third, Shimizu was holding her hand from across the table. Now they looked more like close friends than “lovers” in a newly-established relationship.

Yachi’s heart pounded loud enough to leave a constant rhythm in her ears. She could feel her palms grow sweaty and clammy. Never before had she been so thankful Shimizu was only clamping her hand over her fist, or that’d be the end of her.

The scene from school unfurled in her head. In Yachi’s mind eye, she could see the Shimizu standing in front of the gym, underneath the shade provided by the catwalk, looking at her with _very_ curious eyes. Yachi remembered thinking she was beautiful—illegally beautiful—and felt like a ‘nobody’ whenever she was around.

However, Yachi decided she wasn’t to cower under the sheets of her bed in regret that night, especially on Valentine’s Day. It wasn’t like her to feel a bit of encouragement from a future—a fantasy she replayed in her head over and over—but there she was, and her first words of confession were to escape her mouth in no time.

“H-Happy Valentine’s Day,” she spoke, relieved with the fact she had said it audibly. Her breath was shaky when she held out a small box, where inside laid a pink hairband she thought would look amazing on Shimizu. “This is… this is for you!”

Yachi couldn’t even face the senior when she handed it to her, or when she opened the gift to find the accessory. However, the freshman had turned just in time to sneak a peek at Shimizu’s reaction—the never-before-seen smile that pulled on either side of her lips, and the soft batting of eyelashes on her skin. “Thank you, Yachi-san!” she responded, almost squealing. The first year’s heart warmed at the sight, but she couldn’t even turn to face her. Instead, Yachi’s gaze fell to her shoes. “It’s… nice. You’re too kind. You shouldn’t have done this.”

“I had to,” Yachi spoke. As much as she had tried, her words came out as a mere mumble.

“Yes, Yachi-san? Did you say something?”

“I—”

“Hmm?”

“I like you!”

Yachi’s right hand instantly clamped over her mouth. _Was it that loud?_ Now she couldn’t face Shimizu. She considered running off instead. She could go to Takeda-sensei and tell him that she wanted to resign from her managerial duties with an excuse of ‘it held her schoolwork back,’ she could ask forgiveness from Hinata and Kageyama whom were closest to her, and she could ask them to kindly bring her message to the whole team because her mom didn’t allow her to come back and face them.

 _That’s stupid_ , Yachi thought, but her left leg had already taken a step back. _Don’t run. You’re supposed to face her!_ But really, a part of Yachi knew that wasn’t going to happen. Her right foot had followed suit.

“You do?” Shimizu queried, and although the first year hadn’t turned up to look, she had known the senior well enough to guess she tilted her head.

Yachi could only nod. She couldn’t even feel the embarrassment kicking in. Her face wasn’t even burning either. All she wanted to do was up and run off. With all the ‘INTEL’ she had gathered on Shimizu, Yachi knew it was safe to assume she wouldn’t follow after her if she had faced the opposite direction and dashed off from sight.

If only she was fast enough to slip around corners and zoom through hallways… fast enough to rid herself out of Shimizu’s sight, as quick as she could say her own name. But no. Yachi’s body would never allow her to do that. And neither would the vice-principal. The last thing she needed was a suspension.

Although a suspension would help her, take her out of school for a while…

What on earth is she thinking? Her mother would never take her in after that!

The last thing Yachi had expected was Shimizu’s reply: “Do you want to go out, then?”

 _Going out_. Yachi couldn’t recall if she had considered such in the past when she went out to buy Shimizu the hairband. All she ever planned to do was tell how she _really_ felt, in the hopes that she would relieve the heavy feeling dumped on her chest like a burden. But dating was an entirely different issue. Did that mean they would get to hold hands, go to the movies and watch the latest releases, and maybe even… kiss?

Don’t get Yachi wrong; the girl had her fantasies, too. However, she knew herself well enough to begin pondering, “Would my heart even take it?”

“I haven’t… thought it through,” Yachi admitted, fumbling with the pleats of her dark-colored skirt.

“Let’s go out, then.”

“…eh?”

Shimizu stepped closer, grabbing two of Yachi’s fingers with her free hand, swinging their intertwined hands once. “Well, if you’re still confused… won’t trying it out help you? Don’t you think so, Yachi—erm, Hitoka-chan?” The third year dipped her head to search for Yachi’s eyes, only to find the first year jolting in place much to her surprise. The blonde noticed the light pink that dusted Shimizu’s cheeks, but nonetheless, if she hadn’t looked close enough, the senior would look just as natural as though she had gone out with enough people to be considered a _master_. A smile offered to Yachi, Shimizu continued, “Can I call you that?”

“I-I, um, wouldn’t mind, Sh… Shimizu-senpai.” Yachi wanted to bury herself into a hole, or swan dive from the fifth floor of the main building across the school gates. She was still afraid—more than she was embarrassed—but Shimizu hadn’t shown any signs of letting go any time soon.

“Don’t worry,” assured the third year, lifting Yachi’s face up by cupping her chin. “You won’t be alone. You can call me by my first name, too.”

“K-Kiyoko-senpai.”

Shimizu let out a soft giggle. “Lose the ‘senpai,’ Hitoka-chan. It’s a good try, though! I hope it’ll mark a good start for the both of us. We can work on the name-calling later. Won’t you join me tonight, as well?”

Yachi blinked. Their first date was… tonight? “Where?”

“A café near the school. We could have a couple drinks. It _is_ Valentine’s. Plus—,” she paused to look down at her new hair accessory, before continuing, “—I want to make it up to you. I was stupid enough not to see you’ve been admiring me. I wish I could have… at least cherished you more than I already have.”

The images had stopped there when Shimizu’s voice snapped Yachi back to life, announcing that their sandwiches had been served. “Are you okay?” asked the senior, slowly unwrapping the paper, her eyes glued on Yachi as she did so. “You look kind of spaced out.”

“Oh, no! Th-that’s not it…” Yachi bit her bottom lip, her gaze falling to the heart-shaped bread slices in her hands. In between them sat about two slices of tomatoes, and a tad of what seemed like mozzarella. Yachi was sure she hadn’t tried anything like that before, and a part of her secretly nagged at the back of her mind to take a bite as soon as possible.

Yachi stopped breathing for a moment. _How can a sandwich taste so good?_

“Your eyes are glittering,” Shimizu chuckled. “It tastes great, huh?”

Yachi quickly gobbled the bitten off piece down. “Mm,” she hummed, eyeing the sandwich for another taste. She was so lucky to be there! She loved the food, she loved the atmosphere, and she loved the girl sitting across from her. Probably.

That killed the mood. Yachi had been too afraid to call it ‘love,’ thinking it was always unreciprocated, and the word would never be able to settle it. She figured it’d only hurt her more, pondering over such a complex topic, scared that perhaps she’d be the only one to call it that whereas Shimizu would only think of their relationship as _toxic_ and unhealthy.

“It tastes,” Yachi paused to gather her bearings. The voice died in her throat, and her lips felt dry as though she had never spoken in the first place. _That’s right,_ Yachi agreed, _she can abandon me at any time, after all. This is_ no _love._ Her face slackened, her eyes half-lidded, Yachi urged herself to continue her response, “…great.”


	8. The Plight of Akaashi Keiji (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto would be leading a better life in the morning, and Akaashi would be the spectator of the captain's new relationship. 
> 
> It probably hurt, but Akaashi figured his emotions were nothing now, because it didn't matter anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, it's your resident loser coming back after a three-day hiatus (and it says on the title that I update daily, I'm so good at keeping my word!). School had been draining the life out of me, I probably look like a raisin now. 
> 
> Valentine's is long and gone but I'm still updating until the end of February! Stay tuned for more!
> 
> Thank you so much for the support, you guys. You make me want to write more. 
> 
> \- Kei

Akaashi saw it there.

“Akaashi! Let’s head home together!” Bokuto would yell, waving a large arc as though he wasn’t standing in front of the setter. The captain would swing his jersey over his back, and try timing to shoot his arms through the holes—and fail—just like he did every night. Bokuto would let out a groan and protest at the air for nothing in particular, before manually sliding his arms through the sleeves like a normal person.

Only then would he turn to a grinning Akaashi, who had been trying his best not to burst out laughing and break character, and softly grunt, “You saw _nothing_.”

But of course, Akaashi would say he had seen _everything_ , from Bokuto’s biggest failures to his best successes. He had witnessed so many things throughout the two years of his high school life in Fukurodani, most of the time period being with Bokuto Koutarou, who would fetch him from his classroom almost every break time so Akaashi could accompany the overly energetic captain to the canteen.

Some days, the rest of the team would bring Bokuto over because ‘he was messing with everyone.’

“You’ll handle anything Bokuto-related,” Konoha had told him once.

Akaashi quirked a brow at him. “What?” Instead of giving the curious setter a proper reply, the boy only patted his shoulder and walked off with a sly grin. Of course, Akaashi wasn’t that slow—he had caught up to what he meant by _Bokuto-related_ the more time he spent with the captain.

So much time that he realized he had fallen in love with him. Akaashi wished he hadn’t.

The night before Valentine’s, Akaashi had lain himself in bed, his eyes glued to the ceiling as if all answers to every question he’s ever asked himself in his head would be there, written on a sheet of paper, plastered to the cement, hovering above him as he slept. Don’t get him wrong; Akaashi had always thought about Bokuto, but he couldn’t understand why the captain was always the last thought lingering in his head at the end of the day.

Akaashi had begun fantasizing just a week before February.

He would be standing there, outside the third gym, watching as Bokuto would walk out of the doors, stretching his arms behind his head, arcing backward with a loud and satisfied gruff. “We should go home, Akaashi!” he would opt the younger male, striding towards his side, a hand gripping his messenger bag’s strap tightly. “It’s getting late.”

Bokuto would go yapping on and about, walking unconsciously forward.

Akaashi would stay, staring at his shoes as if they had deserved a good clean later that night (mind you, Akaashi cleans his school shoes regularly). His ears would perk up at the sound of gravel crunching below the captain’s feet, and the voice of Bokuto himself calling out from meters away from him: “Akaashi, you okay?”

He was _not_.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi would begin, walking slowly forward to approach the captain. His body would shiver, no less, in nervousness, and the butterflies in his stomach with flit and flutter about, wings caressing the inner walls of his digestive tract. “I-I have to tell you something before we leave.”

“What is it?” Bokuto would query further, crossing his arms over his chest before gesturing towards the setter with a hand. “I’ll listen to anything you say! I’m your _senpai_ , after all!”

Akaashi figured that was what Bokuto would have said, considering he carried _that_ type of ego, completely negligent to all other instances when Akaashi had told him not to do _this_ , or not to do that. Once when Akaashi had chided Bokuto not to use up the whole bottle of dishwashing soap, the captain _did the exact opposite_.

Bokuto was _definitely_ the image of a senpai girls should be running after.

“I’ve… been keeping my eyes on you lately,” Akaashi spoke, stopping right in front of the captain. He would ease himself by whispering words in his mind, telling him to go on and not stop amidst explanation. He would take a deep breath, and would continue, “And I noticed you were… catching my attention more than you should.”

“Am I _that_ incredible, Akaashi-kun?” Bokuto would brag.

He would throw his head back, probably about to yell a loud ‘hey, hey, hey’ across an almost empty campus at seven in the evening, only to be stopped midway by the setter with, “Wait, I’m not done yet.” As he fell silent, Bokuto’s gaze would fall back to Akaashi, and alas, the junior would say what he had meant to from the very beginning. “I just wanted you to know that,” he paused to take a sharp intake of breath, before lowering his upper body in a split second with the words, “I like you, after all.”

 _Bowing makes me avoid eye contact_ , Akaashi figured. _It would save me the trouble of going through the pain of blushing in front of him._

“Please go out with me,” he would say. But never did he think of Bokuto’s reply, because all of that, he had relied on the future and its judgements.

_The future_ , Akaashi thought, staring up at the sky. _And this is what it holds._

“Akaashi, let’s go home together!” Bokuto hollered for his attention across the other end of the open space to the left exterior side of the third gym. He waved in a large arc, which only then made sense, with him being far from the setter as Akaashi locked up the door. “I’ll take you out for some onigiri if you like!”

Akaashi watched the padlock swing in its place, the metal surface glinting once in the light of the post from behind him. “I’ll take you up on that offer,” Akaashi replied, turning to the captain. He stuffed the keys in his jersey pocket with veiled disappointment, before running over to Bokuto, and the two began making their way out of the campus—Akaashi in relative silence, with Bokuto running his mouth off with stories from the earlier day’s match as if his setter wasn’t there.

It was the evening of Valentine’s Day, and all of Akaashi’s planning had gone to absolute waste.

Bokuto would be giving his literature project that night to his future girlfriend—no one would say no to Bokuto when the captain himself confessed because of his earnest and cheery personality, and Akaashi agreed greatly—and he would be leading a happier life the next day, where Akaashi would only be a third wheel to the new couple.

The setter would be present if Bokuto needed company to the canteen, even if his girlfriend was by him; the setter would be present if Bokuto needed any tosses, even if his girlfriend was watching from the sidelines of the gym. Akaashi would be forced to watch their interaction, and hopefully, he would keep his thoughts to himself. Silently, the boy prayed he would never speak another word about the matter.

Because nothing mattered anymore.


	9. The Plight of Yachi Hitoka (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yachi is definitely not overthinking things. Not about dating Shimizu. Not about her date's latest expression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaand, it's March. 
> 
> I feel kind of bad for not updating for SO LONG. It felt like forever!
> 
> But here I am now, doing a chapter which I hope you guys'll enjoy to the fullest. Uh, that's all. I'll see you next update. 
> 
> \- Kei

“Rain.”

Yachi hadn’t meant to be rude. Given that she and Shimizu had moved into a window seat, her eyes had glued themselves outside, through the glass, seemingly mesmerized by the soft glow of the post’s light. About fifteen minutes of watching in relative silence, completely ignoring her milkshake (not that she’d done it on purpose, she forgot), the rain began to pour, pattering against the roof like thousands of tiny drummers parading on the metal.

“Hitoka-chan,” Shimizu started, placing her chin on her laced fingers, “did you bring an umbrella?”

Yachi not only forgot she had a milkshake to finish off; she had also forgotten about the girl who had asked her out in the first place.

She tended to do that most of the time. Not like she chose to, of course, but her unconscious actions usually end up driving away the people she had always wanted to get close to her, even her mother—assuming they _had_ found some time off their busy schedules to have lunch outside—and Yachi had given up on everything.

Everything.

The smallest thing she could get her eyes on, she could be distracted for a good half hour, and she blamed it all, more or less, on her desperation to keep all her anxieties at bay. Now she was executing it in front of the girl she had confessed to. Amazing.

Yachi wasn’t even sure if Shimizu liked her back. All she ever did was admit she had grown a crush, but Shimizu had countered that by asking if Yachi wanted to go out. It didn’t make sense to the younger girl’s heart, but nonetheless she went along with it, silently hoping it would get through to her head. She didn’t want to think so badly of Shimizu, because she _knew_ she wasn’t that kind of person at all.

 _Or is she?_ Yachi found herself inquiring, her hand gripping at the fabric right above her heart. Her chest hurt—a comparable pain to what she had felt the previous night thinking about how she’d be walking up to Shimizu. Sitting across Shimizu in a small and emptying café, the pain only lingered at a constant pace. It was getting on Yachi’s nerves. She considered asking Shimizu if she could be excused to go home, but she figured that’d be rude, especially knowing that the senior had done all these efforts for her.

“I-I don’t,” Yachi admitted sheepishly. “I didn’t think it would… erm, rain.”

“We _could_ wait here for the meantime, though,” Shimizu suggested, gesturing with an index finger. There she was again—looking cute, showing Yachi faces she would never present for anyone else. It gave Yachi expectations, it made her think she was actually someone _special_ to the senior. God, what if she really _was_ just taking her out for a café date so she could “reciprocate” her feelings?

Yachi never really meant to underestimate Shimizu. It was just that, she didn’t trust her. Not like that. Not when she treated her like a somebody when she was basically either invisible or a laughing stock at class because of her clumsiness. Yachi wanted to bury herself alive.

She wasn’t overthinking, was she?

Yachi prepared for it. She was _probably_ prepared for a rejection, not a date. Although, somewhere hidden well—and very well—in her room was a small stash of _shoujo ai_ manga she had bought from the bookstore the other day. She’d spent over 3000 yen buying a near-collection, all just to help her with imagining, because really, Yachi had underestimated her brain’s visualizations too much.

Then again, now that she’s had time to evaluate and self-reflect, not everything written or drawn in books could more or less happen in real life, too. In books, she could run into some she liked, bump into their shoulder or something closely related. In real life, there was only Shimizu, and her, and talking, and the senior being sweet, and _her_ not knowing what on earth she should be doing.

Yachi felt like dying.

And little did she know of the face who had given up on anticipating for a reply.

“Let’s go, then,” Shimizu added, close enough to a volume of a groan. When Yachi turned to look, the senior had avoided her gaze completely, the features of her perfection glazed over by what seemed to be like gloom. The light of the café left creases on her face as she turned to get up.

“A-ah, right,” Yachi answered back, grabbing the strap of her bag. “A-are you okay…?”

“Fine.”

Yachi froze. Was it her fault?


	10. The Plight of Yachi Hitoka (3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps a good time to leave the cafe. And probably this relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Angst-ville. Population: you. 
> 
> Don't worry, this'll be light. I tell you. 
> 
> Hey, hey, hey! It's me, Kei!
> 
> I'm sorry for being off for weeks. I can explain. First of all, I got myself a bad case of tonsillitis and the cold, which is very common in the summer. I could barely get out of bed, and God, if I had a dollar for every time I almost tumbled down the stairwell, I'd be rich. Second, school has dumped a mountain of work for us science curriculum students, and for the first time in my whole existence, I had been able to witness the whole class wanting to die. 
> 
> But here I am now, I'm cured (I had a liter of Nestea today, woohoo!). 
> 
> Enjoy this chapter! And thank you for supporting me this far! 
> 
> \- Kei (Twitter: @die_tsukki)

Yachi pushed the door open, stepped out then closed the glass behind her, hearing the small door chime of the café. The rain was soft, pattering gently on the roofs. Yachi would have found it soothing—the sound of water drops falling off of edges, or rippling puddles.

If only she hadn’t felt the guilt that built up in her heart.

Shimizu isn’t Shimizu.

Yes, Yachi knew what she said about the senior being so _nice_ to her all the time! She was fine with it, now, at least! God, Yachi didn’t want any of that crap—it only complicated things.

Did she just jinx herself?

Her eyes bore holes into the back of Shimizu’s head, watching her intently. She should be saying something, querying her further because she’s _certain_ there’s something wrong. And she’s certain it’s her fault.

She hasn’t spoken either. The last thing Yachi’s heard from her was that half-assed _fine_.

When the cold night breeze had blemished Yachi’s skin, she hadn’t imagined Shimizu’s next words, because they had been the highlight of the very moment. Probably even her life. “Maybe we shouldn’t be doing this after all,” Shimizu told her, taking a step forward, nearing the edge of the shade the overhang had provided them from the rain.

“What are you doing?” asked Yachi.

Shimizu ignored her. Without turning to look at the short blonde, she continued, “I’m sorry, Hitoka-chan.” She took another step, then another. As soon as Yachi had noticed, Shimizu was standing in the rain, her voice almost drowned out by the loud pattering when she uttered: “I never really wanted to bore you, or make you mad.”

Yachi’s gaze fell to her feet. _What are you trying to tell me?_

“Maybe this ‘love’ stuff just won’t work out for us, after all.”

“Don’t say that!” Yachi snapped, before a hand immediately climbed up to her mouth to cover it. What on earth was _she_ saying? She hadn’t a need to look at her senior, as Yachi had guessed she already turned to face her, probably just as stunned as she was. Alas, she lowered her arm, and, without looking at Shimizu, continued, “I just… don’t understand what’s wrong. I don’t like making guesses, so if you don’t say it, nobody does and—”

“You’re one to talk.” Yachi’s head whipped up. Shimizu had been facing sideways, and from their distance, Yachi could only stare, observe, waiting for her lips to move if ever she were to continue. The rain trickled off of the rim of her glasses, and fell off clumped strands of hair. Her shoulders sagged when she shifted to face the younger female, with a weak smile forcibly tugging at her lips, as if she felt obligated to do so being a senior. “You’ve been so nervous the whole night; you looked mad. You barely said a word, you wouldn’t speak without me asking anything. You yourself have been giving me a hard time trying to guess whatever was running through that skull of yours, and guessing what I’ve done wrong to make you act so cold around me— _me_ , of all people.”

Shimizu continued, “Hitoka-chan, don’t you ever think I get impatient, too? Don’t you think I have feelings that I have to tend to? A dried up heart I should be satisfying?”

Yachi’s chest felt tighter, like her ribs were, more or less, squeezing her lungs from the inside. Her throat went dry, so did her tongue, and her heart only clenched when she realized one thing: Shimizu was crying. A new heat traveled to her own eyes, like something had exploded somewhere inside of her, as her voice—cracked and faltering as it was—boomed out to the senior, “I do!”

Whether it was pain or anger, Yachi couldn’t tell. But when her mouth opened the first time, the words kept on spilling. “This one little date… who even does that? Asking people out right after they confess to them?”

Shimizu flinched at this, but her grimace remained unwavering. “Oi, Hitoka-chan—”

“I don’t understand you either!” the younger blonde cried, her hands clenching at her sides. Her chest was on fire, in a painful way, and it suffocated her, but Yachi refused to give in, regardless of the oxygen being stolen from her. A smile tugged at Yachi’s own lips, but it was not of force, but of madness. “Are you trying to call me _confusing_? Don’t make me laugh!”

“Hitoka-chan, that’s enough!” Shimizu snapped, slashing at the air between them.

“No, it’s _not_ ,” she pried, taking a step towards her and into the rain. “If there’s anyone between us who passes as _confusing_ , that would be none other than you. I don’t get you at all! I don’t know if you’ve accepted my feelings, or you’re just being nice so you went out of your way to take me here. It’s pathetic.” Her gaze fell, to the puddle of water now in front of her. A hand clambered up onto her chest and clasped the fabric right above her heart. “I’m… I’m pathetic, making myself believe that you would actually like me the same way. Are you making fun of me and how I feel? Just because I’m younger than you by a couple of years… is this your way of toying with me? I really don’t understand why you do this.”

The heat in her eyes had turned into tears that tried disguising as raindrops. Without even working up the energy to wipe them off of her cheeks, Yachi added on, “It hurts, senpai. Please… for a person like you, saying it would be easy.”

Silence.

Shimizu had decided to break it by asking, “Saying… what?”

“If you fell silent because you were thinking of what to tell me, to avoid hurting me even further,” Yachi began, trying to control her breathing before she could hyperventilate then and there, “you should stop right there. I don’t want any sugar-coated words, or ‘beating around the bush’ ones, either. I just want to know how… h-how you really feel—a direct answer from my confession.”

Yachi looked up, only to find Shimizu stepping closer with a frozen face. “Don’t worry,” the younger girl told her, and for the first time that night, she gave her a genuine smile. “It’s not like I expected anything fruitful from this, either way.” Yachi managed to dip her head and wiped her tears, as if it would do anything to help with the both of them being in the rain. With a cracked voice, she finally conveyed it aloud:

“Just hurry up and reject me, already.”


	11. The Plight of Hinata Shouyou (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hinata wanted to confess. The gym lights had a different plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we have KageHina, coming in rather late. Don't worry! They still follow the same timeline!
> 
> These mini-chapters are going to be shorter, but I decided to put them in to cut through the feels KiyoYachi's giving >:3 We must return to fluff. I don't want this collection be overrun by angst. So here I am. 
> 
> Don't worry. All you kind readers have to do is wait for everyone's respective endings, and enjoy. I hope I'm able to satisfy you guys with this :D
> 
> \- Kei (Twitter: @die_tsukki)
> 
>  
> 
> P.S. If you wanna be friends on my anitwt, feel free to DM me! We can be friends, if you want :)))

“Is it true that you like me?”

Hinata flinched.

What the _fuck_?

“Wh… where’d you get that from?” the redhead queried, trying his best not to take a step back or drop the balls tucked under his arms when they were wrapping up practice. His heart had skipped a beat, and for a reason the poor boy couldn’t name, his chest tightened. God, he hoped he wasn’t red, but he only prayed so when he felt the blood in his face burning.

Kageyama averted his gaze, as if searching for the person around the gym, knowing that it was empty. “Someone,” he decided, unwilling to name them, before turning back to Hinata. With a raised brow, Kageyama continued, “So, what will it be? Is it true?”

Hinata butted his head against the taller male’s chest, reeling the boy back a few centimeters before hopping back into position. “Do you realize what kind of idiot you’re being, asking _me_ such a question?” he demanded, spinning on his heel to walk towards the sports cart behind them. “Why would I _ever_ like you?”

Even from their distance, Hinata’s ear hadn’t failed to catch the sound of the other male’s tongue clicking. “You’re dodging the question, boke.”

Hinata threw the balls into the cart, before gripping the edge with his now free hands until his knuckles turned white. In an attempt to control his ragged breathing, he dipped his head—also an excuse for him to hide his burning skin. At the very least, he had his back turned to Kageyama.

First thing he had to do: Hinata had to figure out who that double-crossing liar was. Everyone Hinata had told his crush on Kageyama about were his _friends_. Now he had to find who broke it out to the tall male himself—and he or she was his next-to-kill.

Second: Hinata had to turn around and tell Kageyama how he _really_ felt. Of course, it felt easier said than done!

Hinata’s thoughts went back to the nights prior, when he was practicing in front of the mirror in the bathroom for almost an hour every time, up until Natsu knocked on the door to tell him to go to sleep, declaring her absolute irritation towards her poor _onii_. So much for that, with all his lines practiced, he felt as though his hard work had gone to waste, now that Kageyama already knew without Hinata letting out a single hint of what he was supposed to say.

 _That bastard!_ Hinata thought, tightening his grip on the metal bar.

Then again, he might have messed up the confession either way.

But now he had no idea what to tell Kageyama.

How it would have gone was just so simple. Hinata would have been staying with Kageyama after practice for some extra tosses, and just when they were going to lock up the gym, he would walk up to his setter and say these exact words:

_Kageyama-kun, I like you. And no, I don’t mean I admire you for your volleyball skills, or your precision—or at least, not only that, is what I mean. I like you, in a romantic way, like hold hands, and kiss, or hug, but we don’t have to do any of those if you feel uncomfortable! I mean, we’re both male, after all, and it would seem a little weird, but I swear, I’m not confusing my feelings for admiration. I truly am in love with you. So if you don’t mind… would you go out with me? I promise to show you sights you’ve never seen before, and I promise I’ll make you smile. Please go out with me._

And those words were _difficult_ to memorize! Hinata felt like tearing up inside. What was he supposed to say now?

Hinata took a deep breath, and let it out after three seconds of holding it in. _It’s now or never, I suppose_. His mouth opened—it was about to unleash all the words he had to say, with a makeshift script suddenly popping up in his mind. “Kageyama-kun,” he began, turning to the setter slowly.

Kageyama quirked a brow once more.

“I—”

And upon Hinata’s first word, the lights turned out, leaving nothing but a yelp to escape the redhead’s lips from the fright.


	12. The Plight of Hinata Shouyou (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He talks about Rapunzel, and now Kageyama wants him to what?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, it's today's update! Yet another of my, well, not-so-good mini-chapters for a really late Valentine's special. But here we go!
> 
> This following chapter will be containing a Kageyama with a bit of a tweaked personality, so if you don't like the not-original Kageyama, who, in turn, is rather soft in nature (but God, I hope I was able to capture what I actually wanted for this one) you can probably skip this update. Wouldn't want to make ya'll cringe, of course xD But hey, it's not like I've ever produced anything that didn't make you cringe, eh? 
> 
> Anyway, on with the second part for Hinata!
> 
> Try your best to enjoy, I suppose. 
> 
> \- Kei (Twitter: @die_tsukki)
> 
> P.S. I fixed the DM setting, and //now// I can accept messages from people who don't follow me. I apologize for the previous message about this; I didn't know there was a setting for that.

For some reason, he closed his eyes as well, afraid that the lights might turn back on and someone else—a ghost like Masakado Taira, or the five-limbed Mika-chan—might just be standing right in front of him. God, how Hinata wished he hadn’t been up so late watching horror movies with Natsu!

His heart leapt to his throat, drumming ever so loudly. Goosebumps had already adorned Hinata’s skin, and the thought of ghosts roaming the gym scared him even more. Just that year, he had heard some players from the basketball team talk about voices they heard one early morning at school _in the exact same gym._ A few other girls from a neighboring class in their grade also claimed to have seen the gym door open in its lonesome.

He was frozen in place, with a shivering body, and chattering teeth. “KAGEYAMA, WHERE ARE YOU?” he called out into the darkness, not entirely sure if he was turning the right way. All he cared about was being heard by the setter. Hinata was obviously scaring himself just by thinking way too deep into the situation, even he knew it—but then again, his body had refused to stay calm.

“I’M RIGHT HERE, DUMBASS!” bellowed the tall male, a bit too loud, given the close distance Hinata couldn’t see, and neither did Kageyama. “Do you have your phone with you?”

Hinata patted his pockets, only to feel nothing. With a small grunt, he replied, “No, Natsu borrowed it for today. How about you?”

He grunted. “I left it at the clubroom.”

“You should _always_ bring your phone with you. It’s why we have pockets!”

“Volleyball shorts _don’t have_ pockets,” Kageyama stressed. “Dumbass Hinata.”

The redhead’s face burned. Fortunately for him, the lights were out and Kageyama would never catch a glimpse of how stupid he looked. “You’re rich enough to get pockets sewn into your shorts!” Hinata argued. “Tell your mom to get you pockets! They shouldn’t cost over a thousand yen, yeah?”

“Volleyball isn’t about the pockets! So it doesn’t matter!”

“It does now!”

Kageyama muttered. “Why am I even arguing about this with you of all people?”

“Walk over!” the redhead demanded, gripping the cart with a hand. “And make it quick! It’s scary being alone here!”

“It’s too dark.”

“You can do it!”

With a soft voice, the ravenette spoke, “You’re paying for my medical fees if I trip.”

Footsteps.

One.

Two.

 _Squeak_.

Hinata’s breath hitched in his throat. “…was that you?”

“Those were my _shoes_ , dumbass,” Kageyama hissed at him. “Give me a moment. It’s too dark to see anything.”

“Kageyama, hurry up, will you?”

“I’m _trying_! I don’t even know if I’m going the right way!”

Hinata let out a loud whine, falling to his knees, his hands still gripping the cart. “You _better_ make sure you’re going the right way! Don’t leave me alone! Please!”

Kageyama cursed under his breath, taking two more steps in the dark, his direction unknown. “Fucking pipe down!”

“Are you stupid?” the redhead asked. “Don’t you think the silence would be _better_?”

“It would be for _me_!”

“Too selfish of you! I’m not shutting up until you find me!” Hinata cried, letting out a small huff right after. He could hear Kageyama’s squeaking shoes, and his semi-heavy footsteps that grew closer and louder by each passing moment. “It’s so dark. Who designed this gym anyway? I can’t believe the little giant lived through this! We should have installed emergency lights!”

“Stop talking. Your voice bounces off the walls.”

Hinata pouted. “Fine…”

Alas, the redhead sat in silence, letting go of the sports cart. He curled into a ball, hugging his knees close to his chest, breathing into his kneecaps. He still hadn’t opened his eyes, still afraid of what he would see when he did. The silence wasn’t helping him grow any calmer—he could hear a constant buzzing that may or may not have been there. At some point he could hear something that seemed like the sound of a medical monitor connected to a dead heart.

He sighed. There was nothing he could do. He wasn’t bored, just afraid of the invisible things that might have been staring down at him without him even knowing. Hinata didn’t know which side to face either, but it wasn’t as though it mattered as much—he wasn’t even opening his eyes.

The poor boy was growing paranoid by the second, with the only thing he could feel was the cart against his back. Somehow, he managed to keep his breathing under control. _Kageyama’s here with me_ , he chided himself, _so I don’t have to worry about anything else_.

In his mind, he had pictured something grabbing at his leg.

In his mind, the images of goblins hopping along the sidelines towards him flashed.

His imagination was only making things worse. Hinata was sweating when he tightened his hold around himself. _Kageyama’s with me_ , Hinata reassured himself, but he wasn’t sure up until when he’d be able to keep himself fine with the thought. He wasn’t sure up until when he’d be able to sit quietly in the dark, or when he’d leap to his feet and blindly search for an exit.

“Are you _that_ scared?” Kageyama queried to break the silence, his tone soft for once.

“Y-you’re close!” stammered Hinata, his heart hammering in his chest with relief. A new warmth coursed from his chest down to his fingertips, loosening his hold around himself.

“You ignored the question.”

Hinata’s head turned away—he wasn’t sure if he _did_ turn away, he just faced the direction opposite the one he used to stick with. “Yeah… so? Does it even matter to you? You’d call me paranoid if you knew what I’m thinking right now.”

Silence. Then the sound of light footsteps.

“Hinata,” Kageyama called once more.

“Hmm?”

“Do you know Rapunzel?”

Hinata gave it a thought. “Isn’t it that one fairytale where the main character’s a girl trapped in a high tower? And you get to call her with that… what was it? ‘Let down your hair,’ was it?”

“Yeah, that one.”

“What about it?”

“There’s this part in the story nearing the end where the prince is blind, and only follows the sound of her voice to find her in the forest.” Kageyama paused for a while. Hinata heard him inhale before continuing, “Could you sing for me?”

Hinata quirked a brow. _Where’d this attitude come from?_


	13. The Plight of Akaashi Keiji (3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi just isn't madly in love with him. Not when he calls him Keiji, not when he walks him to the station.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boom, daily update. I sort of missed BokuAka so I'm bringing my top 2 OTP back. 
> 
> I met someone who's serving as my fresh new motivation, and I'm crying at how nice she is. I'm hoping we get to be good friends in the near future <3
> 
> I hope you enjoy this. We just finished up our defense, so I can assure you for my next update by tomorrow ;) Also, guys, thank you so much for reading this far. The hits are growing on a daily basis again, and nothing makes my heart flutter as much. Every kudos you leave makes me smile, so thank you so much for supporting me to go this far! 
> 
> \- Kei (@die_tsukki)

“Give me a bite!”

Akaashi could only watch as Bokuto leaned over and took a bite off of his _onigiri_. The setter had to move his head back and extend his arm, but that hadn’t saved him from the captain’s hair brushing against his lips. _Soft_ , was all he could think as Bokuto withdrew and cried out into the dark-heavens, “It’s so good!”

“You should have bought one of your own, then,” Akaashi told him off calmly, before eyeing the large bite down the side of his rice ball. He didn’t mind; it was something he deemed normal, given that between he and Bokuto, there were no limits to food. Or mostly anything. “I recall telling you that curry won my best vote.”

With a large bite off of his own rice ball being chewed in his mouth, he whined, “You should duff infisted!”

Akaashi shook his head dismissively. There was no use arguing. He paid his attention back to his own food—he had a feeling that would be the last piece he’d be having that night, and he wouldn’t be preparing himself any dinner upon arrival at home.

Five minutes of walking and relative silence, the captain paused right in front of a crossroads sign, with Akaashi walking back a few extra steps to check what had possibly caught his attention this time. Bokuto decided to open his mouth. After licking the extra taste left glazed over his fingertips, the captain queried, “Akaashi-san, isn’t your station near Hayato Avenue?”

Baffled, Akaashi nodded with a quirked brow. “Mm,” came the reply, “I do.”

“I’ll walk you.” Bokuto shoved his thumbs into the pockets of his pants and began walking down the street to their left, right where the sign had pointed.

Akaashi’s heart raced. He knew where Bokuto lived; he’d been there before during a planning session just the same month. And Bokuto _definitely_ was going the wrong direction. “B-Bokuto-san!” he called out, jogging after him. Falling into the same pace with light panting, Akaashi proceeded, “You might be forgetting, but you live the opposite—”

“It’s fine, it’s fine!” laughed the owl-haired male, waving a hand at Akaashi dismissively. “I can just go back right after I see you off!”

A car drove by as the setter fell silent, stunned, his lips only slightly parted. He walked beside Bokuto, gripping the strap of his bag, as he continued to argue with a new grimace taking place. “You should be heading home,” he told him. “I don’t want to hinder you.”

“Well, I got news for you.” The captain, his mouth half-open, paused to lift a finger, then flicked his wrist down to point at him. “You’re _not_ hindering me. I thought it was pretty selfish of me to ask you out this late for snacks, so take this as my apology, hmm?”

“You don’t have to do that,” Akaashi retorted. “We do this every day now. It doesn’t matter.” _Or at least, it shouldn’t._

Bokuto clapped him once on the back. “I’ve said it once, I’ll say it again—it’s fine! I wanna see you off for once, so give me this chance. Please, Keiji-kun…?” The captain had dipped his torso, his head lifted to lock eyes with him, batting his lashes, with his interlaced fingers right below his chin.

 _Don’t give me that look_ , Akaashi thought, trying to keep a straight face whilst maintaining eye contact with the captain. Annoyed as he was, there wasn’t anything else he could use to argue with—aside from the time and effort the captain was to exert just for him. Either way, Bokuto kept rejecting those, and even carried on without him.

As soon as the blood in his face began to burn, Akaashi turned away, a hand clamped over his mouth with a reply, “Don’t call me that.”

“I’ll take that as an agreement!”

The walk to the station was, at the very least, livelier than the walk from 7 – Eleven to the crossroads. Or at least, for the whole while, Bokuto had gone running his mouth off with a variety of topics that ranged from volleyball to stories of him and Kuroo the other day when they had met at the park by chance, earning himself occasional nods of approval from Akaashi, though most of those were done nonchalantly. Don’t get him wrong, though—the boy was definitely listening; he was only having a hard time concentrating, with the captain, for the first time ever since they’d met last year, taking him to the station out of ‘guilt’ from his so-acclaimed selfishness.

It was still Valentine’s Day. Akaashi eyed Bokuto’s bag, watching its movement with every step, where something made shuffled noises from the inside. Akaashi made a guess and it was rather easy to tell—Bokuto accepted chocolate from fangirls. And considering the bulge of the cloth, it looked like it had been a busy day.

Akaashi hadn’t received any—he didn’t feel like taking chocolate from girls who handed them in the name of admiration, with the eagerness of dating him. It wasn’t as if anyone had known what he really was, anyway, and most of their reasons would probably be because he looked “cool” with his silent demeanor and serious appearance.

He understood that—the feeling of falling for appearances. After all, Akaashi himself had someone he admired, and, although Bokuto’s looks weren’t really the reason behind ever heart skip, he understood very well how it felt like to be in love, but he supposed he didn’t look like the person to express it ever so openly. The greatest and most painful thing he had to do was watching the girls he had turned down walk away.

And boy, did Akaashi see himself in them.

The light tremor in their lips because of an emerging sob, and the new wetness glossing the eyes that locked with his… now that Akaashi could reflect, he saw himself in them, although he hadn’t even gotten the chance to confess. He just felt like that. After all, Bokuto would be introducing his new girlfriend in the morning once they get to school.

 _Or he wouldn’t_ , Akaashi thought bitterly. _Why would he tell me anyway? Bokuto would be too busy having fun with her to even think of me._ He threw his head back, taking a deep inhale before his lungs would be overrun with a jealousy that didn’t deserve its place. _Oh, well._ It didn’t matter; Bokuto would be happy. He needed someone to back him up.

Someone that wasn’t Akaashi.

Ah, had these things bothered him. If only Akaashi had a choice to love whoever, he would definitely choose _not_ Bokuto… or would he?

“It doesn’t matter,” he muttered to himself.

Bokuto immediately perked up and asked, “What doesn’t?”

“Nothing,” the sophomore told him off coldly, shooting him a glare.

The captain shrunk at that. From then on, the two had fallen into pace, where then began their longest exchange that night, hopping from one topic to the next with neither noticing how long it’s gotten. The next thing they had known, they stood before the station, the remnants of the traffic that dispersed half an hour prior speeding down the road behind them.

“I guess I’ll have to say goodbye for now,” Bokuto chuckled, scratching lightly at the back of his head. Akaashi made a mental squint. Something seemed off. Was Bokuto blushing? The captain’s movements seemed so rushed—he already had spun on his heel and raised a hand dismissively without turning to face the setter. “I-I’ll see you tomorrow at practice, Akaashi-kun!”

“Ah, r-right,” Akaashi quirked a brow but shrugged the matter off. He loudened his voice and called back to the captain, “Good luck with your literature project. I hope you finish that by tonight.”

Bokuto paused in his tracks.

Something did seem off.

When the captain finally turned back to look at him, Akaashi’s heart seemed to drop to the pit of his stomach. He’d never seen Bokuto look so distraught, stunned, outside a match. Akaashi had to blink twice to check if he truly was looking at him correctly. Pretending Akaashi hadn’t witnessed anything, Bokuto raised both brows, blinked, and a smile took place, tugging at his lips rather forcibly as he responded with a quick, “Right.”

 _He doesn’t look okay_ , Akaashi thought, reaching out a hand towards his back as his figure grew smaller and further away from him. _I have to intervene and ask. I can’t leave him in this state._

Suddenly he had withdrawn, a free hand clasping the other weakly. Akaashi’s gaze fell to his restrained fingers and let out a sigh, thinking, _No, it’s bound to be that someone he’s sending his love letter to. That person matters a lot to Bokuto-san; Bokuto-san must matter a lot to her, too._ His arms fell to his sides. _She should be able to cure him. Not me. This has to stop._

Akaashi turned around and entered the station doors. _You’ll be alright_ , he thought. _I’m already reassured you are._ And from then on had he ignored the nagging voice at the back of his mind as he paid for his ticket. When Akaashi moved away from the booth, passing a plant near a window, he had missed it whisper a single word:

“Liar.”


	14. The Plight of Yachi Hitoka (4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sky cries for both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to put KiyoYachi's happy ending. 
> 
> Well, I got some time off of work, and house chores, so I got to post this! I was working on it at school (given that summer vacation's nearing and we don't have lessons for this afternoon). Tomorrow's update might come in a little late, however, as I'll be attending a concert downtown with a girl I *cough* like *cough* (SHE ASKED //ME// OUT SO WHY NOT). The concert begins in the evening (bummer) and hence, the update's coming in a bit late. I hope I'm able to post for KageHina and BokuAka, though. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope this chapter doesn't give too much of a cringe for you folks. Have fun reading! 
> 
> \- Kei (@die_tsukki)

The rain fell rather harshly—over them, and over the bags they had left fallen on the asphalt. Yachi’s ears had caught its sound growing louder, slowly, but it was definitely happening. Neither of the girls spoke, and if one had, her voice would, more or less, be drowned out by the constant pattering, or the fall of raindrops on the concrete.

Yachi wondered if the sky was crying for her.

What exactly did she spit out that night? Were she and Shimizu even together for an hour? She hadn’t checked the time ever since they’ve left school—not like she had a reason to. Would the constant looking at the clock be rude, though? Who was she, anyway, knowing she had hurt her senior’s feelings? Yachi knew she was in no position to complain about the tears either. She herself was guilty.

And by then she couldn’t tell between right and wrong. She just knew what pain was.

It was the wrenching in her chest, the tightening in the space where her lungs were supposed to be, a constant sob trying to bubble up her throat but she had to try and hold it in, no matter how warm her eyes got, no matter how dry her mouth ended up. And God, pain was reflected in tears, and the course of a new warmth throughout her body despite the chills that traveled up her spine, decorating her skin with goosebumps in the process.

Pain was staying at a café, unable to speak because of the anxiety that ate away at her consciousness. Pain was leaving the person she loved the most when she blacked out with eyes wide open, staring out of the windows, not being able to see what face she was making. Pain was not being able to realize what her desired partner was feeling. Pain was watching the sky devoured in a darkness that reminded her of the bitterness inside her heart, watching it cry with all the poison that suffocated her from within. Pain was associated with “unrequited,” and pain was sticking with “unrequited” even though it no longer was.

Pain was accepting a pseudo-reality.

Was that truly pain? Or was Yachi only thinking of her own anxiety?

She might have mixed it up. _Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter_ , Yachi chided herself, throwing her head back, feeling the water on her face. She could feel the looks of the people from inside the café, and then again, those didn’t matter to her either. Her mind was finally cooling down. When was the last time she’s ever argued with anyone like that?

To begin with, Yachi would only ever fight someone she actually cared about. That being said, she only had a limited number of people she loved. Those would probably include her mother, the Karasuno Volleyball Team, Ai-chan from class… and Shimizu.

It’s not like she’s battled her mother before. She was rarely home. She’d yelled once, but that before she became a manager for the team, when Hinata talked her into convincing her mother to let her be who she wanted to be.

And Hinata. No way would she ever pick a fight with him.

Neither would she be picking a fight with Kageyama. Or Tsukishima. Or Yamaguchi. Or any of the older players.

Yachi’s eyes darted back to Shimizu, whose tears had mixed with the rain long before. Yachi’s feelings for her hadn’t changed—as if the span of five minutes in complete silence would ever make her change her mind about her. It wasn’t as if Yachi had the freedom to choose anyone that caught her eye. It wasn’t as if she could identify some random person and say, “I’d date him.”

But if that happened… well, Yachi was pretty certain she’d still end up wanting to love Shimizu.

 _I probably would_ , she told herself. _What’s not to love about her?_

She recalled the moment she met her—the day a senior had roamed about the first years’ building, looking for a manager that would take after her once she graduated. Yachi would be lying if she said she wasn’t afraid she’d be chased after a fan club—she presumed someone who had her looks would _definitely_ have one.

Much to her surprise, Shimizu didn’t have one.

But something _did_ spark from within the freshman. It was the day she became _her_ fan club.  

Shimizu’s lips parted, and Yachi’s mind began wandering as to what she would say.

_Thank you for everything, Hitoka-chan. It turns out I can’t love a fellow girl after all._

_I can’t accept your feelings._

_Please be happy in someone else’s aid._

Instead, the senior let out a breath that came out only as a cloud before releasing her reply. “I love you.” Her eyes bore holes into Yachi’s soul—determined black orbs rimmed with the light’s reflection, glinting back at Yachi as if in anticipation.

Yachi gulped, holding her gaze. “That’s not the answer I asked for—”

“But it’s true!” Shimizu retorted, so close to growling. With her evident pent up frustration, she was quivering in her place, a light tremor in her lips as she held back another sob. “You can’t tell me otherwise. If this isn’t love, what is it?”

She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling, lowering her gaze. “I-I don’t know.”

“Then it is.” Shimizu took a step closer.

“No,” the younger blonde refused, “that’s not true.”

“It is.”

“Isn’t.”

“Is.”

Shimizu was closer now, standing a mere 12 inches away. Yachi cupped her face to refrain from locking eyes with the senior. “I-I beg to disagree,” she stammered, her face burning. The feeling behind that… well, that remained a mystery, just like the reason behind existence. “It’s different, I swear.”

“How different is this love, then?” Fortunately, Shimizu herself had cooled down. Otherwise, she might have gone scared to death, with the senior mad, growling the same line to her in the harshest way possible. Somehow, their last exchange brought out her playful and kind side that Yachi had always looked up to—and that was probably what made her a real and true _senpai_.

“W-well,” Yachi cleared her throat which had gone dry just the argument before. “I… wanted to hold hands, and… stuff.”

“Stuff?”

“You know! Hugs!”

Shimizu took another step, and lifted Yachi’s face by the chin. “Mm,” she hummed in response, a small smile on her face. “What else?”

“G-g-go on dates,” Yachi added on, her heart pumping so loud, she feared Shimizu would hear.

“And?”

The younger female gulped. With a face that felt warm against the cool rain, she continued, “Kiss.”

Shimizu’s face was practically glowing. If anyone had to win a bipolar personality award, Yachi would most likely give it to her, or probably run away with it. But God knew if she was still hurting inside. It was a guess, but Yachi felt like she did. “It’s funny,” the senior began, gently tucking a wet portion of hair behind her ear. “I’ve wanted to do those things with Hitoka-chan, too.”

Yachi must have let out a small whimper when Shimizu chuckled and added, “I don’t know, nor do I understand, how you see me from your perspective, but I know it from within me—I know I’m in love with Hitoka-chan. I want to do so many things with you, it’d take me three days to enumerate them.” She paused, reaching down with a free hand, interlocking her fingers through Yachi’s. “I want to hold hands, hug, kiss, go on dates, and if I could marry you, why not?”

“It’s too early for that, d-don’t you think?”

“So, does that mean you’re finally accepting my feelings?”

Yachi’s lips contorted into a pout.

Shimizu only laughed against the rain. “You’re cute when you blush.” Her face grew closer, and closer, and by the time her lips were only a hairsbreadth away, she sheepishly asked through half-lidded eyes, “May I?”

Yachi closed her eyes, and nodded once. Although fear seeped into her spirit, she tried to ignore the dwelling of such a toxin. The next thing she knew, she felt a different warmth against her lips, and her face grew hotter. Shimizu withdrew, and chided her, “Part your lips a bit. They’re sealed shut.”

“I-I’m sorry.”

“Are you afraid?”

Yachi didn’t reply.

“We can always take it the slow way,” Shimizu told her calmly, pulling her into a hug. “Go out with me, Hitoka-chan. Let’s make it official this time—no more hiding behind anything, no more silence. Do you think you can be honest with me? _For_ me?”

Yachi sniffled. “I’m sorry… I’m really sorry.” Her hand snaked up her back and locked over her shoulders. Her face was nuzzled in her neck, moving down to her upper chest as she sobbed against the loud rain. “I’m sorry I made nothing out of what you felt. I-I’m sorry, I… I-I… I didn’t think you’d… I didn’t consider your side. I didn’t think of how you would have reacted. I-I couldn’t even wonder what kind of face you made for me!”

Shimizu tightened her hold around her. When her shoulders jolted up, Yachi knew she, too, was crying.

“I’m sorry,” the younger girl apologized. “I… don’t deserve any of this. I don’t deserve you… o-or your kind—kindness.”

“Believe me,” Shimizu said between sobs, “when I say… you deserve so much more.”

“I really don’t,” she let out a chuckle, “I’m trash.”

“One man’s trash is another man’s treasure. You’ll be my jewel. You’ve—you’ve always been, you know?” Yachi tried controlling her breathing before her knees buckled to the lack of oxygen in her system. _Shimizu-senpai…!_ “Let’s start over.”

Yachi nodded with a weak smile. “O-okay.”

“You can be mine, I’ll be yours.”

“Okay.” Yachi mentally cursed herself for letting another tear out.

“I love you, Hitoka-chan.”

Yachi withdrew herself from her hold to wipe another tear. “I-I love you, too.”

“Say my name.”

“Shimizu-senpai.”

Shimizu smiled behind closed lips and asked again. “ _My name_.”

Yachi returned the warmth before flying back into her arms and uttered loud enough for her to hear, “Kiyoko-san, I love you, too.”

And the sky, still, cried for both females, but it was a far more delighting sentiment than before.


	15. The Plight of Hinata Shouyou (3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kageyama has reasons behind the sing-yourself-a-song technique, and ways how to shut Hinata up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I personally think this isn't the best chapter I've done xD LOOK, I JUST WANTED TO SEE THIS HAPPEN. You might be thinking, "Kei, it's too dark for you to see anything!" Joke's on you, I have night vision. 
> 
> Anyhoot, here's the KageHina chapter, nearing the end. God, I hope I can formulate a proper ending for such an important ship. And good Lord, I hope I don't encounter any hate this time (been there once, now I'm pretty damn scared). Hopefully speaking, I won't mess up. 
> 
> Enjoy~
> 
> \- Kei (@die_tsukki)

“D-don’t get the wrong idea, dumbass! I’m not asking you to do it because I want to hear you sing!”

“What are you getting so worked up about? I haven’t said a thing!”

“ _Exactly_!”

Hinata huffed. “Why do you want me to sing, though? It’s _so_ un-Kageyama-like.”

“BECAUSE WHEN YOU TALK, YOU EXPECT ME TO REPLY, AND WHEN YOU SING I DON’T HAVE TO OPEN MY MOUTH TO SHUT YOU UP BUT RIGHT NOW I REALLY DO NEED A GUIDE!” Kageyama boomed from somewhere to Hinata’s left. “SO DON’T GET THE WRONG IDEA! JUST KEEP TALKING OR MAKE RANDOM NOISES OR SHIT, I DON’T CARE!”

“Alright, _alright_ ,” Hinata called back. “Calm down already! Bet the whole school could hear you!”

“It’s empty so find me a fuck to give.”

Hinata sighed. Whatever was going on, he didn’t understand. But with this banter he had with Kageyama soothed him by the slightest percent, because he truly _did_ know the setter was right there. Somewhere. Standing in the dark. Looking for him. Now he just had to sing, and he’d be found.

He didn’t understand how important it was, but it helped stop the argument, and it prevented his ears from bleeding to Kageyama’s lack of control on his volume. Hinata opened his mouth, and out came a song he heard on the radio that same day. It was more of a sad song than a happy tune—and Hinata knew better than to sing a happy song in the dark. In most horror movies he’s watched, they didn’t end too well.

He might have as well passed as the “depressed kid who expresses himself in music” so the monsters that surround him get intimidated by the demons that might be in his head. So he was glad he had grown a fondness of sad songs.

Personally, Hinata didn’t think his voice was anywhere close to angelic, but he did kind of think that he had a decent singing voice. He was an okay singer who could keep his voice from cracking at every pitch bend—and boy did he love singing in his alone time. Natsu might have been hating on him for every ‘concert’ he’s ever pulled in their bathroom. Then again, he _did_ sing in front of Kageyama multiple times, like that one time he had been skipping to a little tune he made for himself when he ran into his setter and Aoba Johsai’s Kindaichi.

When Hinata pulled into the chorus, a new voice spoke from beside him, and asked, “Was that a Kenshi Yonezu?” Hinata would be lying if he said he hadn’t yelped a second time that evening.

“Quit scaring me,” the redhead complained, shifting towards Kageyama until their arms touched. He curled back into a ball position and hugged his legs, talking into his kneecaps. “I don’t know who sang it, or what the title is, either. I just heard it on the radio. But if you have it on your phone, you better Bluetooth it to me tomorrow.”

“ _Haiiro to Ao_ ,” Kageyama told him. “Just in case you… needed a title.”

Hinata huffed and leaned a little bit closer. “I have to tell you something, though,” he began, gulping down any excess fear or anxiety. He’d felt enough emotions for one night, and while it was dark, he might as well have taken advantage of the fact that Kageyama wouldn’t see what kind of face he’d be making. _Here goes._ “About the whole… I-like-you issue.”

Kageyama hummed in response, as if a gesture for him to go on.

“I do,” Hinata finally answered. His mind went point blank, barely remembering what he had written down on his script. He decided to go on and tell him the gist. “It’s kind of weird… you… me… being male, and all. I’m sure I like you. I’m not confusing these feelings as… something else.” He buried his face into his knees and proceeded, his voice slightly muffled, “Please go out with me.”

“Okay.”

Hinata snapped. “I CONFESS MY LOVE TO YOU AND ALL YOU TELL ME IS _OKAY_?”

“WELL, WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY, DUMBASS?”

“SAY SOMETHING LONGER, DAMMIT!”

“THAT WOULD BE UNNECESSARY! YOU ASKED IF YOU WANTED TO GO OUT, AND NOW HERE I AM, TELLING YOU THAT I WANT TO. IS THERE ANYTHING ELSE I SHOULD BE ADDING?”

Just as the two of them fell silent, the rain began to pour. Hinata could hear the distant dripping from outside, and he could visualize the rippling of puddles formed on the open grounds that surrounded the gym. The frogs and crickets came to life, their distant harmony heard from the court, unable to be drowned out by the pattering of rain.

“Honestly,” Kageyama suddenly spoke, “I didn’t think you’d do it.”

It may not have been obvious, but Hinata narrowed his pupils at the setter. “What do you mean?”

“Sing. I didn’t think you’d actually do it for me.”

“Don’t make fun of me!” the short male cried, elbowing his partner, earning himself a grunt from him. “Why the hell did you make me do _that_?”

Kageyama let out a soft sigh. “I didn’t know you were scared of the dark. I don’t like lightning, but way before, I’d been so scared; I couldn’t take the sheets off of me until the rainstorm was over. My mother would tell me I sing myself a song, and the fear would go away.” He paused for a while, as if recalling his childhood. “When you fell silent, I figured you were afraid. But if I suggested the whole sing-yourself-a-song technique, you’d definitely make fun of me.”

“So,” Hinata cut him off, a sly grin across his face, “in other words, you felt guilty with shutting me up.”

He must have covered his mouth when he replied. “I’d shut you up _anytime_.”

Hinata let out a small sigh of his own. “Man, I feel kind of disappointed now. I honestly thought you were beginning to appreciate my singing voice so much that you indirectly were asking me to sing—” And there, in the dark, he felt it interrupt him—something warm that went in contact with cheek for a moment, something soft, and something that merely brushed against his heated skin.

“Shut up,” Kageyama whispered into his ear. “I _do_ like your singing voice.”

Hinata found himself feeling his cheek with a hand. “D… did you just kiss me?”

“I thought I’d miss the first time, really. I can’t see anything, and neither can you.”

“You just _kissed_ me.”

“On the cheeks, yes.”

“Why are you making such a light matter from this? That was my first!”

Kageyama shrugged, the redhead feeling his movements from beside him. With a tone so nonchalant, Kageyama added on, “It was mine, too, but I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal to you. We’re together now… aren’t we?”

“That’s _not_ how things work,” Hinata explained, desperate to keep his heart from popping out of his chest. It was beating so loud, he feared Kageyama would hear. “You’re not grossed out by this? The whole… sentiment thing, I mean.”

“The person I like likes me back,” he told the spiker like he was reading a line from a textbook. Hinata could feel the grimace burning holes into his very soul. “What’s gross about sentiment?”

“This… isn’t the reaction I expected from you when I visualized my confession in my head,” Hinata admitted, blindly searching for Kageyama’s hand. He ended up reaching for air, and, done with trying to pinpoint its location, he grabbed for his arm instead, and followed it until he clasped his giant palm. With a smile Kageyama wasn’t able to see, Hinata went on, “I’m glad, though—thinking you’re fine with these.”

When Kageyama didn’t reply, Hinata asked, “Can I… lean in?”

Kageyama didn’t reply, but instead, moved his arm, allowing access for Hinata to inch towards his side, and the redhead gladly obliged. _He loves me back after all._ He felt his knee, and snuggled up to his folded legs in the dark, where the air was far warmer than it used to when he was alone next to the sports cart.

“I’m sorry for not knowing about you and your issues with the dark,” Kageyama apologized, his voice no louder than a whisper. There wasn’t much life to his words either, but Hinata accepted them regardless. “Had I known, I never would have been so insensitive, calling you a coward, especially when you were probably about to confess.”

Hinata giggled. “I bet you’re not even looking a little bit guilty.”

“Sh… shut up.”

“But yeah, it’s fine. We’re cool.” The redhead cleared his throat and, with his best impression of his new boyfriend, continued, “We’re together now, aren’t we?”

“I’ll fucking end you!”

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled.

No ghost ever mattered; Kageyama was around either way. How long he had been cuddling up next to him, Hinata would never know. The two only settled for a chat, discussing things mostly about volleyball as if they hadn’t even started dating. Hinata didn’t mind, of course. Although he had saved himself from ever being hit by Kageyama from then on, he didn’t want to try and get on his nerves.

Seeing an upset Kageyama would have been cute and worth a snap from his camera, but he chose not to test him and how far his patience would hold. The last thing he’d need was Kageyama leaving him.

Hinata was mid-sentence about a future attack he had wanted to try for so long, until Kageyama suddenly popped out the question:

“When do we plan on getting out of here?”


	16. The Plight of Akaashi Keiji (4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi was alive; Akaashi didn't feel like being alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've gotten to the fourth mini-chapter of the BokuAka story. I feel so glad. But I'm not letting it end so soon. It's kind of weird. I think the more I love the ship, the longer the story. 
> 
> However, I might be adding in some transitions, since I've already finished off every other ship except KageHina and BokuAka. Not to mention KuroTsuki, which will come in a separate book because... well, you'll see. I hope you guys look forward to that post-Valentine's special as well!
> 
> I couldn't update yesterday because I was tired as heck when I got home. The worst part of it was still being hit with insomnia but having no energy to get anything done. Ended up reading manga instead. 
> 
> Anyhoot, Akaashi's on his way home! Laters!
> 
> \- Kei (@die_tsukki)

__The ride on the way home was merely Akaashi in an empty train looking out the window, watching the quiet Tokyo city line as the shuttle whirred towards his station, the lights flickering twice before coming to a stop. Akaashi heaved a sigh before slowly getting to his feet and curtly exiting the ride.

Tokyo had been reduced to hushed chatter from every direction Akaashi had turned to. The sophomore had always enjoyed the subtle feeling that kind of atmosphere provided him—it wasn’t loud, it wasn’t quiet either; in that sense did it hand him ease and a reason to calm down.

It wasn’t as if he was disturbed in the first place, though. Nope, not at all.

 _Enough, Keiji_. He brought a palm against his forehead, as if he could knock out the thought from his mind. Yes, he was hurt. Yes, he hadn’t gotten the chance to confess. At the very least, he hadn’t bought Bokuto chocolate because he was sure that would only bring him more sorrow as he would throw the untouched box into the trash bin where he would never see it again as soon as he went to take it out.

Akaashi eyed his apartment from the parking lot, checking the second floor, the third room from the right, finding that someone had already turned the lights outside for him. A small smile urged to pull at his lips when he drew closer—he was about to get home, and lounge on the sofa for as long as God knew when—and that was until Akaashi’s ears caught laughter.

“That was a horrible joke!”

“Eh? But I tried so hard trying to think of it! I thought it was clever!”

“Shut… shut up! My stomach hurts…!”

Male and female, laughing in a mixed symphony, somewhere to his…

Although he didn’t want to, he paused dead in his tracks, turning to his right, finding two people propped against a car door, both with crossed arms over their chests. They weren’t hard to find—after all, they stood right below the aid of a streetlight. Akaashi could make out the features of the man in his early twenties who threw his head back: dyed blonde shoulder-length hair that brushed against his shoulders, a defined nose, and what might have been green eyes.

The female looked a bit more familiar to Akaashi. Her hair was dark and it shone against the light that formed creases on her face when she turned to Akaashi’s direction. Tanned skin and pale lips that the sophomore was sure he’d seen before… that was until he realized he was looking at the fourteen-year-old daughter from next door—the same girl who’d never speak up when she and her parents came over to greet Akaashi a welcome during his first week at the apartment. _Mikami-san?_

Akaashi’s heart dropped to his stomach when she fixed her gaze on him as if acknowledging his presence in the parking lot, resulting to what might have been her boyfriend—a much older one, at that—to follow her trail of sight. _Why were you staring at them?_ Akaashi chided himself, briskly walking towards the entrance, a hand clasping his bag’s strap, the other covering his mouth as he dipped his head.

 _Idiot_ , Akaashi cursed himself, working his way towards the stairwell, his footsteps heavier than usual, the metal boards below him loud as he bounded up the steps. When Akaashi arrived at the second floor, he heaved a sigh—this time of relief—before slowing his pace as he made his way to his room.

He passed Mikami-san’s family’s room, hearing the faint sound of chatter from inside. They must have been having dinner, as Akaashi had guessed, but he knew, all across from where he stood, there was Mikami herself, away from her parents and jolly siblings, with a boyfriend. She probably had been eyeing the ravenette, and that was exactly why he hadn’t even bothered to pause in front of the room next door before he became a suspicious character.

Akaashi immediately sped up his pace, unlocked his door, and flew inside, locking himself in with a slam. “Stupid,” he scolded himself under his breath, running a hand through his short dark hair, before leaning against the frame, opening the lights in the process, and sliding down to the floor, his bag falling off his shoulder with a thud. It was getting bothersome. How he wished he hadn’t looked.

He couldn’t help but feel jealous, though.

There she was, the ‘silent’ daughter of the family who lived next door, laughing into the heavens so carelessly _right in the parking lot_ where anyone would have caught her (she should have deemed herself lucky to be caught by Akaashi and not some other blabbermouth who lived nearby or she would be dead to her parents if she had any plans of hiding that relationship from them) on Valentine’s Day. Akaashi couldn’t help but think, “Good for her,” when he saw, as something in his heart sort of clicked. Or broke. Whichever of the two—they made the same sound either way.

A hand snaked up to his chest, clutching the fabric right above his left lung, feeling the loud heartbeat that’s been hammering from inside him. Akaashi was alive; Akaashi didn’t feel like being alive.

It was nice to see Mikami being happy. Of the two years Akaashi had lived there, never once had he run into Yanase Mikami without being turned away from with a cold look frozen on her face. He didn’t mind them, of course, no matter how rude it might have gotten; he could understand for her, someone who’s lived in such a happy family would probably grow tired at some point, too. At least she knew life wasn’t all about unicorns and rainbows. Or a round table with food being passed around while the person handling it chortles so loud the whole neighborhood might have heard.

Mikami was a strange girl, Akaashi had thought, but that night, he sort of felt happy for her. The effects of seeing her so glad being with someone she looked like she loved, though… that brought Akaashi a tad more of pain. It made him think of Bokuto all over again.

And the next morning, would he be just as happy as the two in the parking lot?

Akaashi began having second thoughts. Maybe he’d never be able to live it down. No matter how much he convinced himself that Bokuto needed a girlfriend… did he honestly think that would be healthy for him? Would he be _actually_ fine?

 _There’s nothing you can do now, though. Don’t get too full of yourself_ , Akaashi thought, pushing himself off the floor boards before proceeding to toe off his shoes. He grabbed his bag and waltzed into the hallway. _If you confessed, do you think Bokuto would_ actually _change his mind? He’s already written that love letter; you can’t do anything about it. He’s already written the address._

Akaashi took a left, walked straight, and plopped down on his bed without bothering to open his bedroom’s lights. He might have dropped his bag somewhere along the way, but that didn’t matter. _If I confessed, wouldn’t that only bring him guilt? And with guilt… he’d never be able to confess to the person he desires to date because he’d be too busy thinking about how to make it up to me._ Akaashi rolled over, ending up on his back, resting his forearm over his eyes. He was exhausted. _Or worse, he might date me instead._

The second year removed his arm and let it fall to his side. _And he’d do it out of pity._ A grin stretched across his face for half a second. _I feel pathetic._


	17. The Plight of Akaashi Keiji (5)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi is bored, disappointed in himself, and helpless. She wasn't the person he wanted to see by then, of all people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for getting this far. It feels so warm and fuzzy inside to know we're already at 900+ hits and 50+ kudos because I can assure you, I've never gotten this far before. Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading! 
> 
> I decided to lengthen Akaashi's story because it sort of appeals to me as the most interesting one among them (well, you haven't read KuroTsuki yet, but we'll get there). I will be, however, making up for the past ships who had already gotten their happy endings with afterstories. I hope you look forward to those as well. 
> 
> Well, here goes nothing! 
> 
> \- Kei (@die_tsukki)

**_Konoha Akinori:_ ** _get that finished already_

**_Bokuto Koutarou:_ ** _I’M TRYING OK???I’M DOING MY BEST!!!1_

**_Konoha Akinori:_ ** _@Akaashi Keiji someone isnt doing his homework_

**_Sarukui Yamato:_ ** _haha_

**_Bokuto Koutarou:_ ** _wow, rude_

**_Bokuto Koutarou:_ ** _some friends huh_

**_Bokuto Koutarou:_ ** _akaashi pls dont kill me until tomorrow_

**_Bokuto Koutarou:_ ** _pls i just want to pass my lit class_

 

A part of Akaashi told him it was a bad time grabbing his phone from his bag, and connecting into the public WiFi at eight in the evening. For one, he ended up getting involved in _that_ situation. Oh, of all things he could poke his nose into! Why did it have everything to do with that accursed love letter he had to submit for class?

Akaashi already got it—the world didn’t want him and Bokuto together, alright already! This was just being abusive. He didn’t exactly get why this had to happen to him, of all people. He’d already accepted he was going to be sad for as long as God knew when.

Then again, now that he’d let his teammates know he logged on, he didn’t have a choice, or else it’d appear suspicious. And good god, whoever was watching him that time, he prayed no one was able to figure it out themselves. He wouldn’t know how to respond to: “Akaashi-san, you like the captain?”

Before he knew it, he was typing his reply down.

 

**_Akaashi Keiji:_ ** _just finish it before morning practice._

**_Akaashi Keiji:_ ** _if we’re suddenly called in for a match with a neighboring school, what would we be without the captain?_

_That should keep them satisfied_ , Akaashi thought, leaning heavily against the fridge after he grabbed himself a carton of milk and poured a glass on the counter next to him. Akaashi exited the messenger application to take a long sip.

Milk had usually made him feel better.

He wasn’t sure if it took effect that night, though.

Akaashi pushed himself off of the fridge which he had left to shake momentarily when he made his way towards the chair in front of him, pulling it out, and settling in, placing the glass of milk on the table with a loud clack. When he raised his hand, only then did he realize he had spilled an amount over his fingers. _Keep it together_ , Akaashi chided himself with a groan, getting up to wash his hands. _You’re only losing Bokuto to a girl; it won’t be like you won’t see him ever again. Geez, this is getting immature._

He paused for a moment, before realizing he had left the tap on. After closing it, he had both hands on the counter and thought, _It’d be better if I wouldn’t be able to see him again, though. Just imagining him talk about a girlfriend hurts enough._ But it wasn’t as though he could do anything about it.

On the counter against the wall to his left, his phone buzzed to life—not once, but multiple times. Akaashi didn’t need to grab it to check who it was; he already knew they were his seniors bombing the team group chat, along with their first year regular. It was a hunch, but a part of Akaashi knew they were reprimanding—if not, making fun of and jeering—the captain about his love letter.

Akaashi worked his way back towards the table, settling into the same seat, but instead of wrapping his fingers around the glass, he rested his head on the wooden surface, the table in contact with the left side of his face as he toyed with the wetting exterior of his glass, tapping it, making a small tune… anything to keep his hands busy. Akaashi was bored, disappointed in himself, and helpless. He saw no use getting depressed over it, though.

The last thing he needed was _anyone_ knowing about his crush on Bokuto.

Once Bokuto got the girl of his dreams, it would all be in the past. He wouldn’t let anything like this bother him or his new lover. He wouldn’t want anyone asking either of them why they broke up, only for them to answer, “Akaashi likes Bokuto.” Akaashi would never be able to forgive himself that way. Not at all!

Bokuto… who would have thought he had someone in mind? Akaashi only grew more and more curious as time passed—so much that he had begun visualizing what kind of student the captain had settled his eyes on. At the very least, he didn’t have an urge about changing himself.

Bokuto might have fallen for someone with beautiful blonde hair that cascaded down her back, a few inches above her waist. He might have met her during one of his endeavors to the rooftop by himself, where he caught her watching the skyline of Tokyo City in a spring afternoon with the wind blowing through her clothes as she tucked a portion of hair behind her ear. She might have heard Bokuto’s footsteps when he stepped onto the open area, hence, she turned and locked eyes with a love-struck captain.

Or, the situation could have gone like this: Bokuto, careless as he was, was dashing down the open grounds, zooming through a bustling crowd of students entering the school on an early morning. He might have been late to practice, explaining his mild panicking state. All of a sudden, Bokuto rammed into a female, reeling the both of them back to the impact. He groaned, rubbing his forehead with a click of his tongue. “Are you okay?” the girl might have asked, immediately bolting to her feet and offering her hand to the captain. “I’m sorry for being in the way…!”

Little did the student know that the captain with the strange hair had already fallen for her charm.

Or maybe, this was how they met—Bokuto was done with classes that day. The teacher asked him for a favor, resulting in him being one of the few students left in the whole campus. Practice had also been suspended for volleyball, and Bokuto, with no one to spend his time with, decided to go home instead. The captain was toeing his indoor shoes off and placing them in his locker when a girl standing by the overhang caught his attention. She was beautiful, even from behind, her shoulder-length hair brushing against her uniform. She was clutching the strap of her bag, fidgeting, as if in deep thought.

The captain thought it would be a good idea for him to step in, so he grabbed his umbrella from its place and ran over, opening it. “Let’s walk home together,” he offered, his cheeks tinted with pink. “It wouldn’t be good for someone like you to be caught in the rain. I’ll take you to your stop. That okay?” Bokuto would have found it weird falling in love with someone he had just met, but it wasn’t as if he could choose whom he could fall for, in the first place. Love _was_ love, and he didn’t need a reason to grow a large interest in a lonely girl waiting for the rain to pass.

Akaashi shifted to lay his forehead on the table. What was he? A shoujo manga artist thinking of a concept? The nth groan that night escaped his barely open lips, before he pulled himself up into a sitting position, slumping back against the chair’s rest, before lifting the glass of milk to his lips and downed it all at once.

His phone stopped buzzing; Akaashi guessed that was a good thing. At the very least, he didn’t need to think people were actually looking for him.

_Knock._

Akaashi’s ears perked up. Was that his door?

_Knock, knock._

There it was again.

“Coming,” Akaashi _tried_ to yell—he really did. His body seemed to betray him, however, and it came out as a strange croak instead. He placed his hand over his throat as he began clearing his voice, in attempt to make up for his reply.

 _Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock_.

Whoever the person at the other side of the door was, they were getting on Akaashi’s nerves, but the second year was in no mood to express his anger at anything, knowing that wouldn’t do him any good. It might even result in him getting kicked out of the apartment. Instead, he added on with a volume the neighboring rooms would hear, “I’ll be right there!”

Akaashi speedily paced down the hall, and without bothering to wear his slippers, he held the doorknob with a hand and sighed, turning it, only to find someone he had _not_ wanted to see.

“M-Mikami-san,” he began. “Good evening… what brings you—?”

“Shut up.”


	18. The Plight of Akaashi Keiji (6)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikami was at Akaashi's door, stirring trouble, reminding the second year of a familiar somebody.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we reached over a thousand hits. 
> 
> I really don't know how to express my gratitude for everyone who's read. (Thanks to you guys, I got myself free Lipton from a friend.) Thank you so much for supporting this collection, and leaving a kudos. I still do hope I'm doing my job as writer to be able to please you via every chapter. 
> 
> The following chapter is actually the third version of what I've originally made (because I suck at writing, evidently) but I hope it's turned out better than I expected. 
> 
> Please enjoy, as we're nearing the end of this compilation of mini-chapters. 
> 
> \- Kei (@die_tsukki)

“You’re mean,” Mikami sobbed into the sleeves of her uniform. “So… so mean…!”

Akaashi just watched her, a dumb feeling pulling at his chest. He couldn’t even get to open his mouth—if he had, what would he be saying, either way? He would have been filling her up with rubbish, if anything. Hence, the elder male remained quiet, and listened to his neighbor’s plea, even as her family remained feasting in the next room.

“Did you think—did you think that little stunt you did was funny… _Akaashi-nii_? D-did you really think so?” Akaashi heavily leaned against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest, his head dipped low enough to not meet her eyes. He couldn’t even see what she was doing, or what face she was making—he knew she was crying in front of him, and that was enough information.

Akaashi _hurt_ her.

“You’re mean… I hate you!” Mikami went on with a stomp of her foot. The back of his neck burned, his blood boiled, and his eyebrows twitched multiple times, but gratefully she hadn’t seen any of those at all. “You’re lucky sensei was a kind man! You’re lucky h-he didn’t come in for you! You’re lucky he hadn’t left me in the dumps! Akaashi-nii, what kind… what kind of idiot are you?”

A fourteen-year-old brat in braids and leather shoes came to him that night, only to complain about a conversation he had walked in on, crying and weeping and sobbing like any of her kind would. As if Akaashi had chosen to see them, as if Akaashi had asked them to stand in a place so openly like a parking lot! Why was _he_ being deemed the bad guy? Had it been his fault he lived in the same apartment?

Jesus Christ, he hadn’t even poked his nose into anyone’s business! What benefit would he be getting from a scene he barely saw?

“W-w-well? What did you think? About watching us!”

 _Tick. Tock._ His watch had gone, filling the gap of silence between them.

“Didn’t you think that was weird? It was, right?”

 _Tick_.

Bokuto and him would look weird together, wouldn’t they?

 _Tock_.

Mikami was laughing against her own tears, and boy, did Akaashi feel like choking someone. “I-it was, truly! To your eyes! A twenty-two-year-old man from university dating… dating someone as young as me! How _appalling_!”

 _Tick_.

Bokuto… dating him. How appalling would that be? How laughable, in fact!

 _Tock_.

Akaashi bit his lower lip to keep it from trembling. _Shut up_ , he chided her, but the words died in his throat and his body would never be able to cooperate with him. Not when he was in front of her. Never when he was in front of her. Was she still calling him guilty? Was she still blaming him?

_Tick._

“Yes, well, that’s definitely the kind of person—the kind that you are!” Mikami snapped at him, clawing at his right arm, reeling him towards the mentioned direction. Akaashi didn’t lift a finger nor a head. The female’s voice was sharp, and loud enough to be heard in the neighboring rooms. “Just what were you thinking? Staring? D-did you do that because you thought it was weird? How judgmental can you people possibly get?”

 _Tock_.

Bokuto and him holding hands.

Bokuto kissing him in public.

Bokuto taking him out on dates.

Bokuto leading him to the altar.

Bokuto.

What would other people think of them?

 _Tick_.

“That’s enough!” Akaashi retorted, slamming the wall next to him with a fist. The pain stung it stayed a while, but it was enough to let him know he was still alive… a state he wasn’t sure he truly wanted by then. He lifted his head, fixing his gaze on a quivering middle schooler hiding behind the protection provided merely by her own hands. How frail, was all he thought, trying to keep his temper down. The girl in front of her was fragile, and Akaashi had no intention of breaking her further by dumping his feelings out on her. “Go home, Yanase. I’m not having this conversation with you.”

Akaashi exhaled through his nose, controlling his breathing. He was _this_ close to hyperventilating, but he saw no use in getting mad at someone who wasn’t using her head. A hand snaked up his face, covering his mouth, afraid more words would pour out without it. _I feel pathetic_ , he thought, lowering his head with his skin burning from the anger that dared abscond.

“We’re not done yet,” Mikami urged, attempting to grab at his arm once more.

“We are,” Akaashi replied softly but sharply, eyeing her with frozen nonchalance. Mikami shrunk back, taking a step behind her. “You’ve got some nerve… walking up to me, after a whole year of making me believe you were only _shy_ , telling me to keep quiet when I haven’t even let out a single word. And trying not to raise my voice is the hardest part…!” Akaashi paused to breathe, massaging his temples to ease himself. “It’s evident you haven’t put enough thought into this, Mikami-chan. After all, what the _hell_ do you know about me?”

The female was silent, her head ducked just how Akaashi would have done it. Perhaps, at long last, she was using her brain, instead of running that mouth off, dumping her feelings onto her own neighbor.

But the problem was Akaashi, and he wasn’t finished yet.

“I know a thing or two about being hurt,” he spoke, loud enough for only her to hear. Mikami nodded, gesturing for him to go on. “Albeit you shouldn’t force yourself on people, handing off the blame… Listen, I didn’t purposely walk in on you. You shouldn’t jump into conclusions and say I ruined the two of you. That’s…” Akaashi paused to search for the right word, only to come up with, “immoral.”

“I’m… sorry,” Mikami wept into her palms, “I wasn’t thinking straight.”

 _Ah… now she’s reflecting._ Akaashi didn’t mind—she needed someone to give her a little push. She was acting according to what her heart desired, her anger taken out on the person who had sparked it. There was no one else she could come to. Akaashi felt—in a way—grateful, even by the littlest percent, for being the one to help her.

Or so it seemed.

“I’m sorry for raising my voice,” Akaashi muttered, reaching to pat her head. If there was anything Akaashi should know, the girl was a real softie on the inside, just like her siblings and parents. There was always an essence of _home_ in every part of everyone, and just as he expected, Mikami gladly approached for a hug. “I’m sorry for making you feel uncomfortable, Mikami-chan.”

There was a part of Akaashi that still felt great unease when he withdrew from her hold.

His anger had died right there, and only then did Akaashi fall to his knees, lowering his whole torso to the ground. He rested his head on the back of his palms, inhaling, exhaling, before proceeding to apologize, “I’m sorry if I made you think of the wrong things. I didn’t mean to be judgmental. Your laughter caught my attention. That was all. I hadn’t expected that from you—with you being silent at all times around me, of course.”

Akaashi continued, “I know this apology isn’t enough. I’ll take responsibility to get in touch with your sensei, and I’ll apologize to him, too—”

“No, no,” she quickly replied, falling to one knee. Akaashi felt a hand brush against his head, and only then did he lift it up, meeting her reddened eyes, and blemished cheeks. Her hair, loosely tied with a pale blue band, fell over her left shoulder as she hovered slightly above him. She wiped what could have been traces of dried tears with a free hand before adding, “It’s fine, A-Akaashi-nii. I’ll explain to him myself. You don’t have to…”

Mikami’s knees buckled, with her hands balled into fists on the ground, her gaze on the floor. The lights formed creases on her features, shading away any signs of expression, even as Akaashi lifted his chest. “I’m sorry for bringing you trouble,” Mikami sniffled. “I… I shouldn’t have come to you only to yell. I feel pathetic.”

Akaashi’s eyes widened at this. He heard that line before.

Mikami wailed. “So, so pathetic…!” She chuckled for a moment against her tears. “I-it’s funny because… because I actually had the guts to tell sensei I like him, and he accepted the confession of someone… rubbish, like me.”

The second year lowered his gaze when Mikami reached over to grip his hand for consolation, a desperate feeling for hanging on. His chest hurt, tightened from the inside. Something was taking his breath away, and it felt as though the world around him was growing smaller, and smaller, leaving just the both of them in a darkness that only knew how to embrace and suffocate.

Mikami reminded him of himself. That’s what’s been sending him mad. He hadn’t noticed on the first glance. Mikami was in the same situation as he was. Of course, how could he not see that? There was no use for empathizing—they were _already_ in the same agony, chased aback by how society would view them, their heads swimming in the same fear, so much their thoughts had gone jaded.

Akaashi didn’t know what brought them together on Valentine’s, but for once, he was actually glad for one thing—with Mikami, he’s finally seen how much he’s denied himself over and over in a span of four hours after that failure of a confession.

And with that in mind, he could stop lying to himself.

Only then did Akaashi realize he was crying alongside the middle schooler.


	19. The Plight of Hinata Shouyou (4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hinata hoped it wasn't all a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be perfectly blunt, I forgot all about KageHina's ending. 
> 
> \- Kei (@die_tsukki)

Kageyama.

He started off as Hinata’s rival, and now… they were dating. It wasn’t as though Kageyama had gone and _directly_ told him how he felt, but it was gratifying to know someone like him had accepted his feelings. Hinata couldn’t ask for anything more.

Kageyama was that ravenette from the neighboring class. He falls asleep throughout the lessons, drinks a shit ton of milk, and goes to practice regularly and probably can’t live without volleyball—just like him. And it was an honor meeting him again. At first, it truly was a pain in the neck. Hinata had to go through hurling, throwing, hitting, squeezing… different types of torture he couldn’t deem possible.

But they were possible, alright.

Those weren’t important things to think of, now that they were dating.

Hinata hoped he wasn’t dreaming.

“Kageyama-kun, you better not be leading us off the wrong direction…”

“I know what I’m doing, Hinata!”

The ginger-haired boy didn’t need to see his face—he already had enough clues to know he was blushing. In the dark, the two had been holding hands. And as much as Hinata had insisted on going together, Kageyama ended up forcing him to let him lead them out of the gym, like the giant dork that he was.

Oh, Good Lord, Hinata didn’t have any regrets about falling in love with him, but sometimes he would ask himself _why_ , of all people. Why him?

Someone who, in the past, had put him through so much. Someone who would _kill_ if Hinata messed up his serves. Someone who felt so abusive, Hinata should be scared to hell because of him. When the ginger head could fall in love with someone as cool as Nishinoya, or someone as kind as Sugawara, or probably someone _female_ like Shimizu-senpai, he just had to like the person he had wanted to avoid since that one volleyball match in middle school.

 _What a king_ , Hinata mused, an uneasy smile tugging at his lips. Kageyama was basically just dragging him around now. If they were to open the lights, Hinata betted that they looked like absolute idiots, pacing around the same direction around the gym, unable to locate the exit. At least Kageyama got rid of Hinata’s fearful imagination for the whole time being.

A chuckle escaped Hinata’s lips.

“What’s so funny?” demanded Kageyama, probably glaring when he froze in place.

“Ah, nothing,” Hinata replied. “You know, Kageyama-kun, this would have been easier if you remembered the direction we were facing in the first place. Weren’t we initially at the left end of the gym?”

“You mean the _right_.”

The shorter male groaned. “Exactly why we can’t find our way out.”

Just as soon as he said that though, the lights had flicked back on, and Hinata let out a yelp. _Were my eyes open the whole time?_ Whether they were or weren’t, one thing was for sure—the lights were bright, and the couple was entirely not ready for it. It took a while for them to adjust to the new surroundings where they could see anything with 20/20 vision.

They never would have noticed the school guard at the door if he hadn’t cleared his throat. Kageyama and Hinata froze up upon hearing it, startled, ears pricked like alert animals locating hunters at night. The guard was wearing simple slacks and a white shirt, his face nothing but a grimace. He was toying with the keys with one hand, with the other he had been drumming his fingers on the metal door. “I thought I heard voices,” he began, letting out a large sigh. “Thought I was going mad.”

“You saved us,” Hinata whimpered, wiping a tear that was never there. “I’m so glad—”

He groaned. “Hurry and get out of here before I change my mind.” The man spun on his heel and gestured towards the exit, a large yawn taken out of him as he disappeared into the night. “Honestly, you boys should be aware that the gym transformers were being under maintenance… didn’t your captain tell you to come home sooner? Eesh, teenagers…!”

Kageyama and Hinata exchanged looks, only to end up stifling laughter with the knowing fact that either had known what to reply.

“It’s still raining?” queried Hinata, gripping the strap of his bag as he looked over as far as his eyes could take him, with Kageyama locking the clubroom behind him. There came a clink, and the sound of a few steps, and alas the ravenette was beside him, looking down at the spiker.

“What were you expecting, dumbass?”

“I wanted it to stop,” he said flatly, his lips downturned into a pout. “Well, it doesn’t look like it’ll be stopping anytime soon. I don’t have an umbrella. Damn, I should seriously be listening to the forecasts…” As if he had heard _absolutely_ nothing, Kageyama shrugged and made his way towards the stairwell, Hinata bounding behind him, begging the taller male not to leave him alone.

“Should we run?” suggested Hinata, jogging in place. The ravenette was still silent—cold, even—as he shuffled through his bag, searching for something. “What’re you doing…?”

Kageyama, at long last, produced a folding umbrella, and immediately popped it open, spreading its arms out in one motion. “Do you wanna share?” asked he, not being able to look at the ginger-head, missing the face Hinata had made when he bounced up once, crying a _yes_ with excitement that came from God knew where.

The walk out of the campus was silent, with the sound of crickets filling in the gap between them. Hinata didn’t mind; he learned to love the silence. His mother was usually gone during the summers back in middle school, and often did he find himself alone in their humble abode, given that Natsu was quite a frequent attendant at sleepovers.

In all honesty, Hinata wanted to talk. No matter how much he claimed to like the silence, he just couldn’t stand being next to the person he admired without opening that mouth of his. At that point they were dating, and as much as Hinata didn’t want to be labeled as an annoying and short insignificant other, he wanted to know so much more about Kageyama, his thoughts had gone clouded.

Whenever he stole glances at the taller male, his blue eyes seemed to be in some other dimension. His thoughts were so far out of reach, Hinata’s curiosity only grew, and in that sense, worsened. He wanted to know what bothered him. He wanted Kageyama to talk.

But he couldn’t grow an extra pair and muster his courage to ask him to. Because his “boyfriend” was just as large of a dunce, Hinata betted that he’d only reply with, “There’s nothing to talk about, though?” because it’s happened more than once in the past. Hinata’s already tried.

 _Shouldn’t it be different this time, though?_ Hinata pondered, taking a sideways glance at him. _After all, we’re dating now, aren’t we?_ Unconsciously a hand worked its way up to his cheek, feeling the same spot where Kageyama had landed a peck. The mere thought of it made his heart race, his face burn like mad. Was that really the same Kageyama in the gym? The redhead began having his doubts.

Kageyama sighed. “Hinata,” he called him softly when they made it out of the school gates.

“Yeah?” _Oh no, what’s that supposed to mean?_

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can live up to your expectations of me.” He reached behind his head and began scratching lightly, a subtle sign of his unease. Hinata could only imagine how much the back of his neck burned and blighted him. “I’m not that sentimental—”

He chimed in. “Well, I didn’t fall for how _emotional_ you are.”

“—and I might not stop calling you the rude nicknames—”

“I didn’t like you for your ‘courtesy’ either,” Hinata interrupted once more.

“You don’t get it!” he snapped with an anger that immediately died down as soon as he said it. Kageyama’s head reared towards the opposite direction purposely diminishing the chances of Hinata ever being able to lock eyes with him. “I’m not exactly what you would call… boyfriend material.”

 _Just when I thought the silence was suffocating, you just had to gather your bearings and say these to me_ , Hinata mused, giggling to himself. _You’re funny, Kageyama-kun. You’re probably the largest dork I’ll ever meet._ “Are you happy that you managed to tell me all that without stumbling over your own words?” Hinata queried sweetly, batting his eyelashes, just to get his attention and get on his nerves. When the setter clicked his tongue, the redhead fell into a fit of giggles. “I-I’m sorry. I just didn’t expect you to say those kinds of things.”

“I’m _this_ close to running off with this umbrella.”

Hinata clapped him once on the back—or at least, as far as he could go. “Oh, hush, you’re just denying that embarrassment!”

The tall male hunched his shoulders.

A sigh escaped Hinata’s lips, his gaze lowered to the ground. “You don’t get it either,” he told him calmly, smiling up at the umbrella that shaded them from the rain. “I’m not good with emotions, too, you know. And I’m particularly sure you’re lightyears away from being polite to me. I don’t expect you to give me names,” he turned to look at Kageyama who finally faced him, “like ‘babe’ or whatnot, and I don’t expect you to be the kind of boyfriend you’d see on dramas and manga.”

Hinata waved his hands in front of him as a gesture to discard everything he’s already said. “Ah, never mind those! The point here is,” he paused, partly for dramatic effect, partly because he ran through his thoughts one more time to check whether or not he was saying the right things, “I like you the way you are, and you yourself are the boyfriend I find ideal. I don’t need anyone to take me home and introduce me to his parents, I don’t need anyone trying to make me laugh with dumb jokes like the apocalypse is happening the next day. I kind of just… need you.”

Silence.

“Sounded cheesy, I know,” Hinata chuckled, before turning to him, forming a V with his fingers, “but I’m a cheesy guy, after all!”

Hinata gave up trying to get an answer out of him. Instead, he turned to the road, eyeing the pavement decorated with puddles everywhere they went. _He probably needs time to think this through_ , he thought, mostly to encourage himself as to not get negative over that.

The last thing he expected was yet another peck, but this time on his forehead. Kageyama withdrew a couple of seconds later, leaving a stunned Hinata to look up at him, only to find the pink tint that dusted the setter’s cheeks as he spoke softly, “Thank you.”

Kageyama wasn’t one to say something so easily. In fact, his eyebrows were knitted together as he tried to get the words out of his chest, and his gaze wasn’t even on his new boyfriend. Nonetheless, Hinata was glad.

That time, he knew, for sure, that the person next to him _definitely_ accepted his feelings, even when his confession hadn’t turned out the way it should have, even when he had gotten so terrified he couldn’t speak. Kageyama was _okay_ with what he was, and what they were going to face in the future.

Hinata felt like crying.

He hoped that definitely wasn’t a dream.


	20. The Plight of Akaashi Keiji (7)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi woke up to missed calls from an unregistered number, and a whole string of messages from the captain himself. It was three in the morning. What could he have been up to?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting sleepy, so this might be the last chapter for tonight. Thank you for reading this far. Ending might be posted tomorrow. 
> 
> \- Kei (@die_tsukki)

Akaashi bolted from a dreamless sleep—for a reason he himself didn’t understand.

His eyes burned just a _tiny_ bit, and his lids were rather heavy. Well, heavier than usual. Akaashi pulled himself into a sitting position, only to freeze in place midway when a wave of pain struck the back of his neck. A groan escaped his lips as his right hand snaked up to massage the aching part. He certainly began regretting sleeping on the sofa.

He threw his legs off of the soft cushions as he let out a yawn. The living room was dark, but not dark enough to keep him from seeing the possible routes he could take to his room. He identified a few things from the small amount of light that poured through the small gaps between the door and the frame, and the cracks through the windows—he could see the TV, the books he left on the floor a night back, and the doormat.

Akaashi could hear ticking, only to find out that he forgot to take his watch off before dozing off.

He shifted his position, rearing towards the right to place his elbow on the armrest, only to step on something square—his phone—on the carpet. Akaashi guessed it fell out of his pocket when he fell asleep. Hoping it hadn’t acquired that much damage, he leaned over to pick it up. His movements were groggy, but he managed to push his torso low enough for his fingers to clasp the device.

The brightness took another groan out of him. But as soon as his eyes adjusted to the new light, his heart leapt to his throat.

Who leaves thirteen missed calls at three in the morning?

Akaashi hyped in his password, his birthday, before scrolling through the list of past calls he had received. An unregistered number. That was odd. _Is it that urgent?_ Akaashi pondered. He decided to shrug it off, thinking he’d call by seven to figure out who it was and ask for what business he or she might have had with him that early.

The second-year lost his will to sleep only a few seconds back. Either way, daylight was to come in a mere three hours or so, and he supposed he could start the day early. Just when he thought of preparing a small breakfast to warm his insides, his thumb had hit his messenger app, and what a sight did he find upon doing so.

 _Bokuto?_ His eyes widened at the screen as he read the bold characters of his name at the top of his conversation lists, only for his pupils to narrow in suspicion alongside his furrowed brows, a wrinkled gap between them. His last message was sent at… 1:39 a.m. _What was he up to?_

Alas, he’d clicked the conversation. And Good Lord, he had not expected what he read.

 

****

**_[11:46] Bokuto Koutarou:_ ** _akaashi_

**_[11:47] Bokuto Koutarou:_ ** _are you awake??_

**_[11:47] Bokuto Koutarou:_ ** _i have to see you_

**_[11:49] Bokuto Koutarou:_ ** _it wont take long i promise_

**_[11:49] Bokuto Koutarou:_ ** _would you meet me outside?_

**_[11:54] Bokuto Koutarou:_ ** _im in the parking lot_

**_[11:57] Bokuto Koutarou:_ ** _damn its actually freezing here_

**_[12:01] Bokuto Koutarou:_ ** _youre probably asleep by now_

**_[12:01] Bokuto Koutarou:_ ** _thats fine by me_

Akaashi’s eyes widened at the next messages.

 

**_[12:02] Bokuto Koutarou:_ ** _ill wait for you to come out_

**_[12:23] Bokuto Koutarou:_ ** _its actually boring being alone huh_

**_[12:46] Bokuto Koutarou:_ ** _WAKE UPPPPPP_

**_[12:46] Bokuto Koutarou:_ ** _kuroo fell asleep, probably why he isnt replying_

**_[12:56] Bokuto Koutarou:_ ** _im growing bored_

**_[12:57] Bokuto Koutarou:_ ** _im beginning to have my doubts, maybe coming over this late wasnt a good idea after all???i sorta thought you were one of those students who would stay up late to study_

_This idiot…!_ Akaashi’s heart was pounding in his chest with a speed going from zero to a hundred, hurriedly throwing himself off of the sofa, gripping his phone so tight it almost cracked. With his eyes adjusted to the dark and gloomy atmosphere, he made his way towards the hallway successfully without slamming into any of his dividers, or, if worse, a wall. _Who goes out this late?_

Akaashi scrolled through the messages one more time.

 

**_[1:04] Bokuto Koutarou:_ ** _im still outside_

**_[1:04] Bokuto Koutarou:_ ** _fuck i look like a mugger out here_

**_[1:05] Bokuto Koutarou:_ ** _akaashi i hope you dont mind me staying right by the door_

**_[1:12] Bokuto Koutarou:_ ** _tried knocking, are you in your room?_

“I can’t believe this,” Akaashi muttered under his breath, swinging the door open. He stepped out into the cold. For a second he had forgotten about his tattered shirt and sweatpants. They weren’t that much of protection against the air that began pricking his skin and blemishing his cheeks the moment the first breeze blew against his face. February mornings were cold, that was for sure. He exhaled a visible cloud of breath when his eyes had darted from one direction to the next.

Bokuto wasn’t there. Not in the hall, not in the parking lot.

**_[1:39] Bokuto Koutarou:_ ** _come out when you wake up, im still waiting for you_

**_[1:39] Bokuto Koutarou:_ ** _im sorry for coming over this late, I just thought it was important for you, too_

_Why would you go this far for something you_ thought _was important for me?_ Akaashi asked, his lips contorting into a grimace. _Unless…_ Did Bokuto’s confession go well as planned? That meant… he wanted to talk to Akaashi for consolation. He cursed under his breath one more time. _Damn it, Bokuto_ , Akaashi thought, racing down the corridor, bounding down the stairwell, blinking the tears that welled in his eyes. _You can’t just race to me right after reality slaps you in the face. Not when…_

_Not when I’m dealing with the same thing._

But of course, the captain would never really know.

 

**_[3:25] Akaashi Keiji:_ ** _I’m outside. Where are you?_

 

“Eh? Akaashi-nii doesn’t have a girlfriend?”

Akaashi shot her a glare. “You don’t have to yell it.”

“Sorry,” Mikami apologized, scratching lightly at the back of her head with an uneasy grin. After their little exchange outside, Akaashi offered her some milk as he claimed it always made him feel better. The girl complied with no reluctance, saying she wasn’t going home—not with a look so haggard. It would arouse suspicion. “I didn’t think so… I’ve always thought you were good-looking.”

The second-year quirked a brow.

Her face reddened in a split second, and Mikami panicked, waving her hands in front of her as if gesturing to drop the idea. “Th-that’s not what I meant! I was just a bit surprised that you don’t have one. You look attractive to me, i-is all! So… yeah…”

Akaashi placed his glass down with a clink, wiping the milk off his lips with the back of his palm. “Well, I’m not particularly sure about me being attractive, but thank you for thinking that.” He drummed his fingers on the table thrice before continuing, “However, I’m just…”

He bit his lip. Should he even go on?

“ _Just_?”

Mikami was a nice girl. It so happened she just couldn’t talk to him, even after a year since they’ve met. Neither did her parents know about how jolly she could be around a few selected people. Akaashi found it interesting. And it was nice to know she’d grown comfortable around him even after an argument. It felt as though he’s made another friend and it was one who lived next door.

If Akaashi stopped then and there, would she have thought he wasn’t fine with befriending her? Would she think he wasn’t comfortable about letting her know about what he was thinking? Would keeping secrets even be a good thing?

Mikami sunk back into her seat. “Well, it’s fine if you can’t tell, of course.”

Now, Akaashi definitely felt guilty.

“I’m gay,” he blurted.

 

Akaashi must have been running around for five minutes now.

He was panting, with his palms on his knees, sweating only little. If he stayed out like this any longer… he’d probably catch a cold. _Bokuto-san_ , he thought, lifting his torso, frantically looking around for places he could have stayed at. _You stayed out here this long? Waiting for me?_

Akaashi wished he hadn’t even slept.

Just as he was about to take another step forward, his phone buzzed to life, startling the male. He recognized the same number that left the numerous calls just the same morning. It was the same unregistered number. _Why didn’t I try dialing his cell? This was him, after all!_ Thinking it was Bokuto, Akaashi quickly answered the phone and asked, “Bokuto-san?”

What he didn’t expect was his landlady’s voice yelling over the phone. “Where have you been? Good God, I’ve been dialing you for hours!” Tachibana cried, and Akaashi could almost imagine what the middle-aged woman had looked like from her living room, lounged on the sofa at that time. “Your friend’s been staying here since one in the morning— _in the morning_ , Keiji-san!”

Akaashi’s heart leapt to his throat. “Friend?”

“Uh-huh,” she snapped, “recognized him from last week when you brought them over! Nice Mr. Takano from downstairs had called, saying there was someone who had collapsed in the hallway. That got a scare out of me, I say!”

Relief flushed back into his senses. _At least he’s safe._ “Where can I fetch him?” he asked, making his way towards the exit.

There was a sigh on the other end of the line. “Come over,” she stated with a little bit of bitterness and reluctance in her voice. “Surely someone from the volleyball club could handle a couple of blocks. 143 Hanako Street—there, I’ve told you my address. Pick him up, please. I’ve been forcing this young man to go home, wouldn’t listen to me. How rude, honestly. He’s _your_ responsibility, since he wouldn’t want to come home.”

Akaashi took a shaky breath before replying. “I’m on my way.”


	21. The Plight of Akaashi Keiji (8)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's just Bokuto. What should Akaashi be afraid of?

The setter didn’t really know what to say. The distance between Hanako Street and their apartment wasn’t much of a big deal; he could navigate those streets in five minutes with his eyes closed and still make it back home safe and sound without breaking a sweat. Neither were his clothes—had he not been so terrified of what kind of face Tachibana-san was supposed to show him he would have cared more about his tattered shirt and sweatpants when he dashed straight towards the address upon the end of the call. His real problem was meeting the captain.

Akaashi was a mere five steps away from the landlady’s apartment room when he paused to consider his situation. Exactly, was Akaashi even ready to meet him?

 

“Oh,” Mikami laid back, resting her chin on the back of her hand. A stunned Akaashi merely stared at her one-word reaction, waiting for more to come. _She’s sizing me up, isn’t she?_ The seventeen-year-old began doubting his life decisions. Perhaps he never should have said that after all? Just as he thought that, Mikami continued, “You live alone, right? Do your parents know?”

“No,” Akaashi answered, drumming his fingers on the table. “I realized I was gay when I was in my first year in high school. My family rarely brings up the topic of love and relationships, so I think I’m on the safe zone every time I visit. Good Lord, I hope they don’t ask.”

“Gay… I didn’t see that coming.”

Akaashi lifted a brow. “Do you think it’s weird?”

“No, no, don’t give me that,” Mikami waved him off, “I’m dating someone in his twenties and I’m only in middle school. I’m in no place to say two men loving each other is weird.” She laced her fingers together as she inched herself towards the edge of her chair. “What’s your boyfriend like, Akaashi-nii?”

The high schooler couldn’t respond.

“Eh? Don’t tell me—”

Akaashi shot her a glare. “This is beginning to look like déjà vu.” Mikami opened her mouth to say something, until the male cut her off with, “Don’t yell it out.” He would be lying if he said his face hadn’t felt that slight burn building up from his chest up to his neck. _A fourteen-year-old can find a boyfriend faster than I can. How do I not feel uneasy?_

Mikami raised both her hands in the air, before placing them on the table. “I can’t say I’m not impressed,” she spoke, brows raised, her head jerking once to the side. “Honestly, Akaashi-nii, _how_? I really don’t understand how you still can’t find someone of your own. You’re nice, you give good advice… and you’re attractive. That’s a package right there!”

“The moment I tell you I’m gay is the moment you gain all that confidence. Can’t say I’m not impressed, either.” Akaashi watched as Mikami grabbed the glass and lifted it to her lips. “Can you call it love, though?”

The girl placed it back down on the table, wiping off leftover milk on her lips. “Call what ‘love’?”

“Falling for a person because they act and look nice, and give good advice. Pretty trivial things, don’t you think? Things anyone would know given enough time, especially if that person has a fetish for running their mouths off.”

“You, of all people, do not talk a lot.”

“I would’ve said the same about you.”

Mikami stretched her arms, her laced fingers just above her head. A yawn escaped her lips, and she rubbed at her eyes. “You probably have something good coming for you,” Mikami spoke softly, running a finger along her lips. Akaashi frowned at how a light atmosphere could be heavy and suffocating as soon as he blinked before he could even take time to realize what was in front of him. “Hasegawa-sensei… we go way back. Met him when he was in middle school back when my family lived in Kyushu. We were neighbors.”

Akaashi took a long sip of his now emptying glass, as Mikami went on, “Always had a fondness for him, even when I was still so young. He was a silly excuse of an adult. Never had any friends,” she paused to play with her glass’ surface, “except him. He was a fun person to my eyes. Two years later, Dad got promoted, and I never saw him again.”

“Until cram school,” suggested Akaashi.

“Until cram school,” Mikami agreed. She had a longing sort of look in her eye, and this sadness got to him, leaving his heart to wrench within his chest. He bit his lip, trying not to let out a grunt or sigh at the atmosphere, as he listened on. “Next thing I know… I gave the feeling a name.” It was silent for a few seconds, and Akaashi guessed Mikami had used them to reflect on what she’s said. Over the night, her senses were keener, and slowly she grew more self-conscious, he noticed. She lifted her shoulders a minute later, raised her brows, and extended her arms with her palms fixed on her knees, rocking herself back and forth. “Well, can’t say I had my happy ending. It’s weird, really!”

Mikami let out a giggle into the back of her loosened fist. “I snapped at you, even attacked you physically—”

“I’m unscathed, no worries.”

“—for someone who doesn’t like me back.”

Akaashi’s breath hitched in his throat. “ _What_?”

 

 _It’s just Bokuto_ , he encouraged himself, jogging once in place the way the captain used to do when trying to calm himself down. Akaashi betted he looked stupid, immediately stopping, only thankful for the hall being empty. He took one step, then another.

The next thing he knew, he was standing right in front of the white door; its doorknob rusted over time from its underside, glinted in the open lights from the above. There were no windows, unlike his own room, and there certainly was a lot of doors around in the same row and opposite it. Akaashi lifted a hand, and only then did he realize he was shaking out of his own control. “Breathe in,” he whispered, trying to inhale a decent amount of air but ended up filling his lungs and adding on to the pressure, “breathe out.” And he let it out. Somewhere past his ribs, there came a sting a free hand immediately tended to.

_It’s just Bokuto._

 

“He doesn’t?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And you call that dating?”

Mikami folded her arms on the table, resting her chin on them, her back arched. “Well, I could as so far tell he’s accepted my feelings. We hadn’t kissed—I wouldn’t be able to do that, with my parents strict with pre-marital stuff—but we’ve done a few hugs and hand holds. But that’s as far as we can go. Hasegawa-kun—Oniisan… loves me, I know it.” She paused to bury her face into her skin, letting out a sigh against the wooden surface. “But it’s probably not the same love I have for him.”

Akaashi was silent.

What was there to say?

This poor thing sitting across the table from his seat was in a relationship with someone who didn’t like her back _that_ way. Akaashi could, by far, tell how much she’s in love. She walked up to his door to pour out her feelings after all, and she got as far as lunging at Akaashi in the spur of the moment, defending whatever sentiment that was that existed between her and her cram school teacher.

How frustrated was she? Akaashi began to wonder. He was seventeen; she was fourteen. How long exactly had this relationship been going on? The male put himself into her position—surely, Akaashi would never be able to handle that. He was positive he wouldn’t. He would rather tell him he didn’t want to stick around waiting for that day he dumps him. He would rather say he liked him, but perhaps dating would never work out for them after all.

Mikami was “dating” an adult who lived in a world so different from a lonely middle schooler. She was serious about him after all. Akaashi could only hope this man was treating her well. It probably was none of his business, but Akaashi silently swore to give this Hasegawa-sensei or whoever he was a beating if he ever hears about him toying with Mikami’s feelings.

Then again, the whole situation was partly Mikami’s fault.

“Why didn’t you—?”

“Let him stop me?” she asked, lifting her head out to look at him. Akaashi narrowed his eyes at this and how she had expected the right thing. _Sharp,_ he reckoned, _but I bet she’s pondered about this way too much already, exactly how she guessed it correctly._ Mikami, her eyes then towed to the table, tucked a portion of her hair behind her ear and continued, “I won’t ever find anyone else that could replace him. Ever since I’ve gotten an opportunity to confess how I felt… well, he promised he’d figure out a way to make himself like me back. That’s how it works to his eyes, I suppose.”

That left a bitter taste in Akaashi’s mouth. Would that be how it would have ended between him and Bokuto? A part of him told him he was relieved to not have tried. Another, however, was maddened and was crying out to him: why didn’t you muster the courage to make an attempt?

“But—but it doesn’t work that way,” Akaashi urged, unable to meet her eyes. “You know that. You can’t choose who you love—it just doesn’t work out that way! You’re forcing yourself into a certain person… you just don’t choose who to love. It comes only naturally.”

“You’re not wrong.”

That stirred Akaashi’s attention. He lifted his gaze once more.

“Maybe for someone like you—no— _especially_ someone like you, you know that too well. Thinking about how society frowns upon you, you’d be the first one to ponder whether or not it’s possible, so you try to change the way you see things… then fail.” Mikami cleared her voice before drawing back against the rest of her chair. “I thought of that, too, but I realized one thing—if I _could_ choose, I’d probably end up finding the same person. There’s always that little something about that person that draws you deeper into whatever trap they set up. There’s always a reason for someone to like another. And to me, Oniisan is one of the most special people. That’s what love is, I think. Kind of stupid… coming from me, huh?”

“No, it’s not,” Akaashi said, no louder than a mutter. “Something so sensible coming from you…” his voice fell as he smirked for a split second, averting his gaze again, “it kind of puts me to shame. I can’t settle with anything at all. If I were you, I’d probably be the world’s biggest mess.” He raised a finger. “However, if this _oniisan_ ever dumps you of no consent and no closure, allow me to intervene.”

Mikami chuckled, crossing her arms over her chest. “What’re you gonna do, then, Akaashi-nii? Beat him up?”

The high schooler could only smile.

Mikami leapt out of her seat, the chair reeling backwards when she slammed her hands on the table. Fortunately for the both of them, their glasses weren’t full. Otherwise, they’d ended up cleaning after themselves. Akaashi leaned over to the side just to see how far Mikami’s seat had gotten; a whistle may or may not have escaped his lips. “Are you serious?” she demanded, completely astonished. “You’re not kidding? You… to beat up someone?”

“I’m not in the volleyball club for nothing.”

“You’re actually fucking terrifying, huh.”

“For someone who’s never talked to me since I got here, you have quite the mouth, huh.”

Mikami cackled behind a hand. Akaashi didn’t exactly get what she had been laughing about, but seeing her so happy across from him, seeing the _biggest_ smile she’s displayed for him so far… he thought to himself, perhaps Hasegawa wasn’t such a bad person, given that he’s turned her into someone so industrious and perseverant for something she desired. Hadn’t she mentioned something about him giving her lonely and dim world color?

It was evident Mikami had gone through so much. She was even younger than Akaashi. Somehow, in a way the second year couldn’t understand, she gave him quite a push. “Enough about me,” she told him once she calmed down, “won’t you tell me _your_ story, Akaashi-nii?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, this collection won't be ending any time soon. I look forward to finishing this story by tomorrow (we don't have classes until April 2nd). I've been using up the Wi-Fi for the drama adaptation for Yamato Nadeshiko Shichi Henge, and good Lord, I'm having a blast. 
> 
> I hope you liked this one. See ya next chapter. 
> 
> \- Kei (@die_tsukki)


	22. The Plight of Akaashi Keiji (9)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Get this all off your chest and learn how to move forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My body was just as shaky as Akaashi's as I wrote this. 
> 
> I hope you like it. 
> 
> \- Kei (@die_tsukki)

_…if I could choose_ , _I’d probably end up finding the same person._

What Mikami had told him sort of stuck.

And that was his exact thought when Tachibana-san swung the door open for him with the words, “Well, that was quick, Akaashi-san. Come in, come in. Your friend’s been waiting for hours now! Goodness, you’re doing a number on my lifetime.”

Akaashi lowered his torso—partly an excuse to keep the landlady from seeing how heated his face actually was. “A-ah, pardon the intrusion,” he stammered, lucky enough to not have been able to bite his own tongue during the process.  

With Tachibana moving away from the entrance, Akaashi was able to take a good and long look at what he was facing. There was no hall like his own; with the door open, any passer-by could easily peer into the sitting room where three sofas and a TV on a drawer claimed a side of a center coffee table. On the sofa to Akaashi’s far right, there was Bokuto, lounged and dozed off, wearing his black sneakers, jeans, and green shirt that read in bold white lettering: SUNAKO. Beside him was his backpack, for a reason Akaashi couldn’t tell by then.

 _What could be so important?_ Akaashi frowned at the captain as soon as he took in his surroundings.

The second year stepped into the apartment, careful with every movement. The floor was comprised of mere alternating floor boards, and Akaashi had feared one wrong step would result to a very irritating creak amidst the silence.

 

“M-my story?”

“I’ve been talking way too much tonight. Make up for it. Tell me the story between you and the guy you’re pursuing.”

Akaashi’s lips downturned into a grimace. “But that isn’t my fault.”

Mikami only gestured for him to go on.

Defeated, the male sank back into his seat and let out a sigh whilst rubbing at his eye. “I don’t know how to do this,” he began, straightening his back, then continued, “but I’ll try.” Akaashi wrapped his fingers around his glass, lifted it, and threw back his head to finish the remaining amount of milk all at once. “He’s the captain of the volleyball club and recruited me just last year. He’s noisy, and probably the largest idiot I’ve ever met.”

Akaashi paused to chuckle. If Bokuto had been next to him as he narrated these things to a neighbor, Akaashi betted he’d whine, and tell him, “Why am _I_ the idiot?” only to have his lips contort into a pout right after when the setter straight-up ignores him.

With that train of thought lightening his mood, he continued, “We spend a lot of time together. He pulls me out during lunch break and, if he has no one to invite, he pulls me out during in-between breaks just because none of his classmates want to join him to the cafeteria. That guy’s mad for hotdogs, I tell you.”

“He’s a weird character,” Akaashi finished, a hand cupping his chin in thought.

“How weird?” Mikami queried. Akaashi guessed she herself had different ideas for _weird_. They were too evident in the way her eyes sparkled.

Akaashi smiled. “Well, for one, he has this infinite love for owls, and in that sense, he dyes his hair white, grey, and black, then styles it in a two-part horn-like way. Ever heard of _bokuto mou fukurou_? I don’t think this is appropriate to say, but he probably idolizes the whole species. And sometimes I wonder how much hair gel he uses per day. Never did he get late for practice on mornings, though, I give you that.”

“I… don’t understand why I like him,” Akaashi admitted, clutching the fabric right above his heart. “I don’t know if there is a reason for this queasiness that I feel whenever we’re together. But I know that when we’re apart, it feels lonely, and when he’s gone, it feels lonely… but even as the two of us are alone together in the gym, he’s capable of filling the room with a warmth that cascades down my veins and erupts in my heart.”

“He sounds nice.”

“Well… he is.”

 

“Bokuto-san, wake up.”

The captain peeled one eye open. “A… Akaashi?” Immediately, he bolted into a sitting position, nearly head-butting the setter in the process. Bokuto’s eyes frantically darted around the surroundings. “Where are we?”

Akaashi’s lips contorted into a grimace. “You dozed off when my landlady took you in for a while. Don’t tell me you forgot _that_.”

“Tachibana-san… was it?”

“Good to know you hadn’t forgotten the name. That’d be rude.” Akaashi straightened himself, dusting his lap. He spun on his heel and turned for the door. “I’d already told Tachibana-san to head to bed. I’ll be taking responsibility for locking up. It would be better if you get a move on, Bokuto-san.”

As he turned back to look at the hopeless ace scramble groggily off the sofa, Akaashi couldn’t help but let a sigh out. He made it as far as waking him up and starting a conversation. He hoped he hadn’t appeared grumpier than he should be. Would Bokuto notice the subtle changes in the way Akaashi had looked at him?

 _Quit thinking of these_ , he reprimanded himself, walking back over to Bokuto to help him rearrange the cushions he had messed up, and folded the blanket Tachibana-san had lent him.

Soon enough, the two of them were heading back to Akaashi’s apartment.

“It’s amazing how you’ve run all this way wearing that,” Bokuto said, spreading his arms open as he began tracing a white painted line on the roadside with his steps. He wobbled to the side, caught himself by stepping forward once then straightened his back to continue where he left off. Like a kid, Akaashi thought. “Don’t you feel cold?”

“I forgot all about the cold at some point, you know,” Akaashi told him, crossing his arms. He’d never looked so informal in public before, but by then he was lucky enough to have been outside by four in the morning when nobody would ever be walking down the streets for a walk, and it was too early for the joggers for their run with their dogs, given that the air was cooler than usual. A breeze blew, only decorating his skin with goosebumps. Now that the problem with his landlady had been solved, he could think of other things.

Like how the captain was walking by him.

Or how he looked.

Akaashi buried his face in his palms when he felt his skin burn. Why was he thinking of those?

He sighed, his breath turning into smoke that vanished into thin air as soon as it had appeared. Letting his arms fall to his sides, he calmed himself down. The cold nipped at his cheeks, blemishing them a shade of pink he couldn’t see, but was certain was there. _Get a hold of yourself_ , he thought, turning to the captain.

If the silence had gotten suffocating, which it already was for his part whilst Bokuto had gone and played like a little boy walking along the roadside, he was to start a conversation. The usual Akaashi had found consolation in the absence of sound, but if Bokuto had been magically placed next to him, he couldn’t keep still. His mind often wandered from one particular thought to the next, and all of those were interconnected, all of those were Bokuto.

“So,” he began, clearing his voice.

“Yeah?” In an instant the captain’s head popped into Akaashi’s line of sight, causing a stir from within his chest. Good Lord, the setter wasn’t going to survive walking next to Bokuto.

Akaashi turned away to gather his bearings. “Have you finished that literature project?”

Bokuto seemed to jilt. “Ah, u-um, yeah.”

 

“So,” Mikami began, lacing her fingers together, “how’d you confess?”

Akaashi blinked once, then twice. He lowered his gaze towards his lap like it had just become the world’s most interesting item, and his fingers began frantically searching for the hem of his shirt, which they found almost immediately, only to fidget and toy with the rough or smooth surfaces. “The thing is,” he grinned uneasily, “I haven’t confessed yet.”

“Exactly why you don’t have experience with relationships. Manga and books don’t always have accurate details about love—and don’t even get me started on movies. Sometimes, you just gotta feel the real thing, you know?” Akaashi hadn’t replied; he didn’t know what to say. Although Mikami’s tone was semi-serious, he felt as though he was being reprimanded with a thousand voices, his nape burning an inconsiderable heat. “H-hey, you don’t have to feel _that_ bad about it—”

“You’re brave,” he blurted.

“What?”

Akaashi ran a hand through his curls. “I’m not.”

 

“You’re not going home.”

“Eh?”

“Bokuto-san.”

“Akaashi-san.”

The setter shot him a glare. _Do you think you have authority over me? You were the one who decided to come over this late, cause trouble for_ my _landlady, and now you’re insisting I let you go home. No, that’s enough freedom. You make bad decisions by yourself, and this is why you can’t live without me._ “No,” he said coldly, patting his sweatpants for the house keys without breaking his gaze from the pouting captain. “You’re staying over for a couple more hours. You can take my bed, if you want to sleep more. I’m fine with the couch.”

Before Bokuto could open his mouth to retort, Akaashi’s patting grew more desperate. His heart felt like it had begun breaking through its jail of bones and cartilage. “Damn,” he whispered under his breath, looking down at what he was wearing. How could he forget that sweatpants didn’t _have_ pockets?

“Is everything alright?” Bokuto asked, close to grumbling.

Akaashi, almost in a daze, buckled his knees and softly spoke up, “I didn’t bring my house keys with me.”

 

“It’s annoying, really. You’re younger, but your mind so, so still, and I’m still a mess up until now,” Akaashi rattled on, a hand clutched in his hair, his eyes towed to the table. “I’m never the best person in the love department. I’m always so desperate for someone I can’t have, someone I shouldn’t have. If I were to tell him honestly what makes my heart race, I would cross lines. Today’s Valentine’s Day, and he wrote a letter for the someone he admires. If I had to confess… I’d grant him a guilt he’d never be able to hold up well.”

“God, I don’t even know if he would be stable still!” he cried, overwhelmed by his emotions. _Shut up_. Akaashi gathered his bearings, wiping his face with his shirt when he realized he’d begun tearing up again. It was more embarrassing than what he had done outside, of course, because at that time, he was the only one crying. “That’s why… I’ve always preferred keeping it to myself. My feelings just… slip out sometimes.”

 

Akaashi and Bokuto were camping outside, hugging their legs with their backs against the wall. The air was more tolerable inside the apartment, and Akaashi felt so stupid for rushing out without the keys to his room. As much as he had wanted to dial Tachibana for the spare, he just couldn’t. He’s caused enough problems that day, and it was only four in the morning.

Bokuto probably lost his sleepiness a while back. His eyes were glued to _everything_ , darting from one place to another, scanning what was around him as if he was searching for something to play with. _That must have been the boredom he’s been rattling on about_ , Akaashi reckoned, turning his head to look at him. His eyes relaxed. Things were normal between the two of them now, with Akaashi finally giving his heart a break.

He could find a girlfriend, he would chide himself. He was sure he’d be able to find true love elsewhere, given the time. Akaashi didn’t understand why he had been crying over it the whole night. By then he was feeling better.

By the time he thought he had erased his feelings completely, Bokuto turned to look at him, and Akaashi’s heart did a double flip. _Fuck_ , he thought, burying his face in his arms, biting his lower lip to keep it from trembling. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._ The blood in his face burned. That was the first time he’s ever been caught staring, and God, of all people that could catch him red-handed, it just had to be Bokuto himself.

“Akaashi,” Bokuto called, his tone slightly sad. With Akaashi noticing the missing enthusiasm, his face had flushed back to normal as soon as dread had filled his stomach. Of course, Bokuto came over to talk, and Akaashi was ready to face whatever words the captain was to hand over. Akaashi’s job was to provide him consolation, not be the one to cause an upstir. How selfish was Akaashi to forget those little things?

“Yeah?” he answered, copying Bokuto’s pose.

“Did I do anything wrong?”

All the color from Akaashi’s face had faded into nothingness.

Bokuto took a deep breath, turning to the floor. “Well, for starters, you’ve been… acting cold around me. I mean, yeah, you’ve always been silent and whatever—well, _not always_ , I mean… recently, you’ve been avoiding me. Subtly. You aren’t doing it outright, because you still talk to me and whatever, but you’re… I really can’t put this into words! It’s so frustrating!” He frantically began running both hands through his hair. Slowly he began attempting pulling out the strands. Bokuto went at it for three seconds before letting his arms fall to his sides, mumbling a quick apology for getting distracted. “You… just—I can feel it. You’re trying to keep your distance. It’s been going on for a while now… and we haven’t had enough time to talk. I planned to earlier when we went out for onigiri, but I know you love rice balls. I didn’t want to weigh down the mood.”

“You could have said so in the past,” Akaashi whispered to himself. “The moment you noticed it… you should have brought it up.” _I would have explained myself_ , is what he wanted to add on, but his tongue disobeyed him, and his voice hadn’t clambered up. He snapped his mouth shut, gluing his lips together.

“Sorry, I was a coward. I ran away every single time.” He paused to clap him once on the shoulder. “It’s disturbing to see you trying to get away from me. It makes me wonder if I caused you that much trouble, or-or if I did something wrong that offended you… I get anxious.” Bokuto rested the side of his head on his kneecaps, his eyes bearing holes into Akaashi’s soul. He took another breath to relieve his shakiness. “The time I pondered why it made me feel that way… I realized you were special and I couldn’t stand drifting away from you. I’m sorry for not seeking you out. I’m a horrible friend.”

_No, I am._

Akaashi’s chest seemed to tighten. Hearing Bokuto apologize for something he caused in the first place made him guilty. The feeling clawed at the pit of Akaashi’s stomach. His back felt cold—as if the wall behind them had turned into ice—and it made him freeze up then and there, unable to do anything. His legs tingled, like they always did when he felt like running away.

By then his urge was strong. Sitting next to Bokuto was a bad idea after all. However, if he was to stand, where was he supposed to go? Would he be leaving the captain behind? He’d chase him, wouldn’t he? Akaashi hated being him. He hated the things he didn’t realize he was doing. In reality, he was the most awful person. What made it worse was the constant sensitivity that left him crying, making nothing out of the feelings of others, let alone that of the captain.

“It’s not your fault, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi began. “I don’t want to see you blaming yourself over things like—”

“Then can you tell me why you’re running away?”

 

Mikami slid out of her seat, dragging her chair back before she walked over to Akaashi. The setter was about to ask what the matter was, only to be stopped by a hug. Mikami threw her arms around his neck, her head brushing against his.

Akaashi always hated showing sentiment through skin contact, because he would always end up bawling like a child in his most vulnerable state. He didn’t want to push her away either, and although his heart had already been breaking, he could feel the warmth that attempted to push the pieces back together, and that warmth traveled to his eyes, disrupting his tear sacs.

He held his sobs in.

“You’ve never tried,” Mikami told him softly. “I implore you… _try_. You’re too scared of the future, you’re too scared of what he thinks, or what his reaction would be. You’re scared of being around him, and right now you’re showing me how much you hate yourself for falling in love. Akaashi-nii, I want you to be happy. Haven’t you noticed? The only thing that’s ever been making you cry tonight is him and him alone.”

The longer Mikami held on to him, the harder it was to blink back the tears that had already gone out of his control.

“I know it sounds scary, being rejected, ending friendships,” Mikami continued, her grip on Akaashi tightening, “but I tell you—it’ll work out in the end. You’ll see what kind of smile you’ll be flashing once you get an answer whether you do get what you want or not. If you keep running away from it, the haunting gets worse. Akaashi-nii.” She withdrew, her hands on the high schooler’s shoulders. “Dive in. Face your feelings head-on.”

“Get this all off your chest,” she concluded, “and learn how to move forward.”

When Akaashi felt a tear fall, he immediately dipped his head to wipe his face in embarrassment. “And you tell me I give you good advice,” he laughed with a runny nose. “My words are nothing compared to what you just told me.” He sniffled as he lifted his gaze, locking eyes with her. A smile tugged at his lips, and against new tears, he continued, “Thank you, Mikami-chan.”

 

His heart raced in the most uncomfortable way possible. He couldn’t understand what was going on inside his chest, but from the way he could feel it, it was as though his blood-pumping organ had broken its aorta shackles and had then been flying all over the limited space. It wouldn’t be long before it would escape from his ribcage.

Its beating was so strong; Akaashi was afraid even Bokuto could hear.

_Face your feelings head-on._

The setter took a deep breath, his eyes closed.

_Get this all off your chest…_

Snapping his eyes open, he spun to face Bokuto who had seemed on edge to hear the answer, anticipating what he should be fixing so he and Akaashi could be good friends again. His shoulders were moving with his odd breathing pattern that went raggedly so, as he prepared himself to speak. “Bokuto-san,” he began, letting his legs fall towards the captain’s direction. He straightened his back, feeling his nervousness all throughout his quivering body as he twisted his position to face Bokuto completely. The latter looked confused for a second, but nonetheless, had followed his pose.

“Yes, Akaashi-san,” he answered, his enthusiasm seemingly seeping back into his veins.

Akaashi smiled. That would probably be the last one he would be wearing for the captain. As soon as the words escape his mouth, the possibilities of Bokuto ignoring him for life were high. He had to make those last few seconds worthwhile before he could lose someone completely. Akaashi was doing this for Mikami to show her how much he had appreciated what she told him. He would be thanking her before she went to school, and from then on, the two would have each other’s backs.

She promised him she’d help him move on. Akaashi believed her. Both of them hadn’t had their happy endings yet, but for now they settled for a mutual understanding. Mikami believed in Akaashi, and that was enough for him to be able to come out and accept what he had felt inside. More importantly, he’d be able to voice out what they were, now that he’s finally given it a name.

_…and learn how to move forward._

“I like you.”


	23. The Plight of Akaashi Keiji (10)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto was a giant preschooler.

Akaashi hadn’t known what to say when Bokuto broke out laughing. He blinked once, then twice just to check. The captain was definitely laughing, clutching his stomach as he heavy leaned against the wall, sliding down towards the floor. The moment he calmed down was when he then attempted to prop himself back up.

“That’s a relief,” Bokuto said, wiping a tear that wasn’t even there. “I thought you hated me.”

 _Ah_ , Akaashi’s eyelids grew heavier from the slight irritation that took the place of his nervousness. He still felt the jitters, but a new warmth had taken place—anger, and it emanated from his chest, coursing through his veins to his fingertips. _He misunderstood._ Akaashi had fallen in love with an idiot.

“…are you fucking serious?” the setter narrowed his pupils at Bokuto.

“Eh? Was that not your point?”

His anger had melted into tears. Akaashi cursed himself for being so vulnerable when it came to him. He balled his right hand into a fist and lifted it to his lips. His heart was confused as to what to feel; his mind was just a muddled mess. “You’re denser than I thought,” he mumbled into his fingers before raising his voice for him to hear. _If I can’t voice this out, no one else will._ “I like you.”

“I know. You just said it.” Bokuto produced a solid index and exclaimed, “I like you, too, Akaashi! A-ah, is that what you wanted to hear? I’m sorry, I hadn’t said it—”

“You don’t understand, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi argued, jerking his head to face him before returning to his initial position. He sighed, wiping his face with the same hand. Mikami told him to get it off his chest, and now that he’s done his first line—the summary of everything he had to say, in fact—Bokuto had made light of it. “I _like_ you.” Akaashi paused to get his thoughts together. “I like-like you.”

“That means we can be friends again, right?”

Akaashi stared at the captain blankly. It was no use. Everything he had to say would only enter one ear and go out the other. Akaashi couldn’t allow himself to keep talking, either—otherwise, every embarrassing thought would pour out. For instance, how cute he thought the captain was when he was cheering on other people, like him. Good Lord, Akaashi would never live on if he were to say that. Not when there wasn’t anything between them.

And there would never be anything, given his current situation.

The setter decided to give it up. He offered Bokuto a smile, and against his welling tears did he say, “Mm, we can, but it’s not like we’ve ever fought in the first place, though. Don’t worry.” Akaashi threw his head back and closed his eyes. “We can be friends.”

The word left a bitter taste in his mouth, but it wasn’t as though he’d been rejected like he had imagined. In all honesty, Akaashi felt better. If Bokuto were to understand the first time he said it and told him he couldn’t date him, things would have gone worse.

However, now that he’s put some more thought in it… he told him what he wanted to say, and could still be comfortable around him. Akaashi conveying his feelings, though—it didn’t feel right, not with Bokuto not getting the point as if it had soared over him. He found no use in trying to explain. Akaashi was satisfied. He got it off his chest, didn’t he? _This guy’s just too thick-headed to differentiate a confession from anything else_ , he thought dryly, _and that might be why he can’t find himself a girlfriend._

A girlfriend. That reminded Akaashi.

“By the way… how’d that literature project go for you?” When Akaashi turned to look at the captain, he found Bokuto was preoccupied with shuffling through his bag, ignoring his question completely. Akaashi let out a quiet huff, crossing his arms with his legs extended, and turned the opposite direction.

Although he could feel a mild ache in his chest, Akaashi had decided to put his feelings aside. Was there a point to trying to clarify? _I got it off my chest_ , Akaashi chided himself. _That should be enough, shouldn’t it? I told him what I had to say._ Something stung past his lungs, as if to answer.

He was denying himself again. He knew as much. There wasn’t a point trying to be honest, though. Bokuto was next to him. He could scream his ranting into a pillow that night, or any time he could grab the opportunity to do so. What he knew he felt could wait; Bokuto didn’t have to know what was happening in his head. Akaashi’s feelings were definitely mixed, and he still didn’t know what to do with them.

He was satisfied.

Relieved.

Then again, his chest still didn’t feel right. _Get this off your chest_ , Mikami instructed him. If Akaashi felt pain, that certainly meant he hadn’t done it right. _Then what am I supposed to do at a time like this?_ Akaashi scolded, ruffling his hair rather vigorously. _Tell him I like him for the nth time? Wouldn’t he find that annoying?_

He sighed. _It’s because you can’t tell him properly._ His eyes darted towards Bokuto who had finally dragged his backpack between his legs for convenience in his rummaging. _Look where it got you, Keiji. Brilliant._

“Here,” Bokuto happily announced, handing out a semi-crumpled envelope to Akaashi. The setter snapped out of his trance and eyed it suspiciously. What kind of stunt was he pulling off this time? “I know it’s a little late. I was supposed to give you the letter earlier… I didn’t really think you’d be so exhausted to not have studied late. You do that, right? Read books in the early mornings to make up for lessons?”

Akaashi slowly took the letter from Bokuto’s hands. _Is he playing with me?_ His eyes flickered from the captain then back to the envelope he now accepted. He might have been shaking as he began unfolding the paper, and his eyes immediately began scanning Bokuto’s handwriting, Japanese characters all written in blue ink.

 _I’m sorry I couldn’t face you properly_ , one of the lines read. _It’s kind of weird, being bothered by something outside volleyball. I asked Konoha about what I had to call this feeling, and this is how I ended up writing to you._

 _I’m glad I spent my days with you_ , another went.

_Akaashi-san, I love you. Happy Valentine’s._

At the end of the letter was the captain’s signature right above his printed name.

_Are you serious?_

Bokuto got up and dusted himself off. He grabbed his bag by the loop carry, and swung it over his back, waving him a quick goodbye. “My work here’s done, I suppose,” he bid, bowing once. “I’m heading home. When you told me you like me… you meant it differently, didn’t you?” He scratched lightly at the back of his head once he straightened up, an uneasy smile pulling at his lips. “I’m… not sure if we can carry on as friends, after all. W-well, I’ll see you later.”

Akaashi watched him turn away, his figure disappearing slowly into the hallway.

Bokuto hadn’t gotten far.

And that was because Akaashi had stumbled over just to get up, clutching the letter in one hand, the other wiping the tears he hadn’t noticed had been streaking down until then. “What are you?” he demanded between sobs. “A fourth grader?”

The captain froze in place.

“What were you thinking when I told you I liked you?” Akaashi went on, his eyes glued to the ground. He wasn’t even sure if Bokuto had turned to look. His eyes had gone blurry moments back, either way. “Are you an idiot? I meant I _liked_ you, that goddamn romantic admiration, for fuck’s sake!” Akaashi put his fist in front of his mouth to keep him from yelling. His knees buckled, and instantly the male dropped to the ground, bawling like his life had lost all meaning.

“Akaashi…”

The next thing he had known Bokuto joined him on the floor, holding him by the shoulders in an attempt to shake him. Akaashi was in immense pain already, and he was having none of that. “Let me go…!” Akaashi demanded, squirming from the captain’s hold. He kicked, and struggled, and for once, he’d caught the saddest look he had ever seen in Bokuto’s eyes but he didn’t have enough time to do anything about it. He inched away from him, his chest heaving. “You’re… you’re an idiot, that’s what you are.”

_I’m sorry I couldn’t face you properly._

“Idiot,” Akaashi murmured, burying his face in his hands. The letter had fallen off seconds back somewhere to his left. “Idiot, idiot…”

_Akaashi-san, I love you._

“We both are,” Akaashi finally said, gulping down his saliva. He ran a hand through his hair as he pulled his legs close to his chest. “I should have grown the courage to tell you these. To think you would write to me… why couldn’t you tell me instead? From the moment you realized it…” he looked up to face him, “ _why_?”

Bokuto dipped his head. Even from that position, Akaashi could see the small smile he intended to display but couldn’t, perhaps, from shame. “I planned to,” Bokuto admitted, his voice soft, but loud enough for Akaashi to hear. The captain, his arm quivering, reached for Akaashi’s hand, closing his fingers around it. Although the sudden outburst of emotions had frightened him, the setter didn’t try resisting. “Believe me when I say I have. It’s why I took you out for food… so we could talk. You looked better, but even then you tried refusing as I asked to take you to the station.”

Bokuto ran a gentle thumb over Akaashi’s knuckles. “By then I was wondering why you were acting so cold. I figured… I figured I wasn’t doing enough— _I_ wasn’t enough. I wanted to know what was wrong, ask what I could do to help… my uselessness and dependence scared me. I thought I wouldn’t be much of help if I were to talk. You’d make me turn away, I guessed, so I ran from it.”

“I thought I’d be able to address the problem in the letter,” he continued, “because there was no one else I could give the letter to. When Konoha told me I might just be in love with you… it took me a while to accept it. He told me it was fine to like someone, even if that someone was close to me, even if being honest about it might end things awkwardly.” Bokuto looked up to flash him with a smile. Was his nose red? “I’ve never really felt this way for anyone in the past. I was… confused. I’m sorry for—”

“That’s not my problem,” Akaashi chimed in coldly, withdrawing his hand with one quick motion. He rubbed his cheek with it, trying to warm the trails of dried tears the wind struck. “What I’m mad about is why you made light of my confession.” He sniffled, then sighed, drawing circles on his kneecap. “Do you know how anxious you’ve made me feel? Do you get why I kept my distance?”

Bokuto pouted. “Oi, oi… don’t just lump those on yourself. I felt those, too!”

Akaashi examined him with narrowed pupils. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re actually just a giant excuse of a preschooler. Have my eyes gone bad?”

“Rude!”

Akaashi let out a huff before supporting himself up to stand. His back fell against the door to his room, his arms crossed on his chest. “Don’t give me that,” he said, no louder than a whisper. Although he really had no right to tell him those either. He himself was guilty of what Bokuto’s felt. Exactly why, on the third time he had repeated the word “idiot,” he had gone and addressed it towards himself. It was stupid, dealing with things the way he did, only to find out he and Bokuto were running around in circles with each other. “I still feel pathetic. After everything I’ve been thinking about over and over… it feels weird. Nothing ever goes the way I expect it, at least… in this department. I keep getting surprised.”

“You make me weak,” he admitted, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. _The only thing that’s ever made you cry is him and him alone._ “Bokuto-san… you’re the team’s morale foundation, but you always make me vulnerable. My weak spot’s… probably you. People say love varies from one perspective to another. Now that I’ve thought of it properly, I think that’s how it is.”

“Sorry,” Bokuto mumbled. “Didn’t know.”

“I’m not done. You might have always made me cry—”

He clutched his chest and threw himself backwards. “You don’t have to reword it that way.”

“—but then again, you still make me happier than anyone else.”

“Eh? Seriously?”

Akaashi turned away. “Mm.”

Bokuto leapt to his feet, wedging his hands into his jeans. He approached Akaashi, and without asking to, the setter had returned his attention back to him. They scanned each other for a good two seconds, and before Akaashi could look away due to his burning skin, Bokuto decided to break the silence. “So,” he began, resting his forehead against the setter’s, “do you want to try dating?”

The ravenette pushed him back once. “Not a chance,” he replied bitterly, running his eyes up and down Bokuto, “you preschooler.”

“I thought you liked me back. Don’t people who like each other usually date?”

“We’re both male,” Akaashi answered. “It’s different. Give it some thought.”

“I don’t think so.”

“ _I_ think so.”

Bokuto took another step forward, his hands on Akaashi’s shoulders. “Tell me how different they are, then,” he suggested. “Better yet, tell me how much better it would be if I had a girlfriend instead of an Akaashi Keiji.”

Akaashi sighed, jerking Bokuto’s hands off of him. His heart was racing, but he refused to accept it—love was an emotional rollercoaster ride he didn’t feel like experiencing anymore. Everything he had to say was out, even the most embarrassing ones, and where every space his love should have been, his mild irritation began to seep in. “You need someone flashier, someone who would suit you. You need someone who would care about you when you’re sick without being worried about anyone else—”

“Now you’re just being modest, describing yourself.”

“Don’t toy with my feelings, Bokuto-san. I’ve had enough. Please.”

“But I’m sure you’d do that,” Bokuto said, “because I know you. You could do so many things for me, and you wouldn’t realize how much I appreciate them.”

Akaashi groaned. “That’s not the issue.”

“Then what is?”

Silence. A horrid type of silence that suffocated Akaashi. He sighed, dipping his head low. “I’m scared of falling in love,” he confessed, scratching his ear. “I’m scared of being inside someone’s mind. I don’t want to go out with you, providing you with a fear of being judged of an eyeful. I don’t want that. Not at all.”

“And if I told you I could conquer those and help you in the process?”

Akaashi looked at him in the eye, biting his lower lip to keep it from trembling. Bokuto was close, _too_ close, and the younger male could smell the light vanilla scent that emanated from his clothes. His eyes drifted towards the side. “W-well, I wouldn’t mind but—”

“All I needed to know.” Bokuto pressed his lips against his. Akaashi had been caught off guard, startled, he even jolted in place. At first, the two had only been fighting for dominance, with one of them clearly unaware of what was to come, but a second or two passed, and Akaashi’s shoulders sagged when he’s taught himself to relax.

Three seconds felt so long in a kiss.

The moment Bokuto pulled away, the two had been fighting for air. Without even giving Akaashi time to reflect on what he’s done, Bokuto threw his arms around him, and breathed into his ear, “Go out with me. If you have too many fears… no, it doesn’t matter. We’re going through them together, won’t we? Your anxiety is just making you see images out of proportion. The reality shouldn’t be that bad.”

“Bokuto-san, I’m not dying on a hunch.” Akaashi wasn’t the best at hugs, but he tried anyway, locking Bokuto against his torso by lacing his fingers together around his waist. “The reality _shouldn’t_ be that bad.”

“Can I take that as a yes instead?”

Akaashi huffed. “Basic information. People usually date…” Akaashi took a deep inhale, tightening his grip on Bokuto before continuing, “people usually date when they like each other.”

 

“Akaashi, are you sure about the door being locked?” Bokuto queried. Akaashi raised a brow, only to find himself knitting them together when the captain easily spun the knob, and the wooden panel swung open. A cheeky grin pulled at his boyfriend’s face as he went on, “Were you _that_ distracted?”

Akaashi felt a nerve twitch as he threw Bokuto his bag. “I’d lock you out for another hour, if you want to.”

“A-ah, Akaashi-nii?” called a new voice the setter had recognized completely. He spun on his heel, only to find Mikami standing in front of their doorway, carrying what seemed like an empty gallon of milk. Akaashi could only guess that she’s been sent on an errand. Dressed in a green tee and shorts of a darker shade, she walked on over, his eyes glued on the captain behind him.

Akaashi nodded. “It worked out well after all.”

Mikami grinned, waving at him. “You’re lucky, Bokuto-senpai. Real lucky.”

She turned to leave right after, leaving a pestering Bokuto asking about her behind with Akaashi. The setter could only chuckle, and settled for a single answer. “I’ll tell you if you promise me we’re beating her boyfriend up if he dumps her without a word of consent.”

“I promi—wait, what did you just say?”

The ravenette ignored his question as he entered the doorway, removing his slippers. “Ah, I forgot to tell you something.” Bokuto was baffled, his head tilted to the side when Akaashi had turned back to look at him as he toed off his own shoes. “Bokuto-san.”

“Yeah?”

Akaashi grinned. “I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And at long last, at the last day of March, I can finally say I've finished this fic. 
> 
> I didn't expect Akaashi's story to be this long, though. When I added Mikami whose character had needed some more fleshing out, I just had to dive right in. Writing this was really fun, though, and you guys have been so kind and loving. Thank you for the structural criticism, and thank you for making your comments on how I write. You guys gave me my motivation back to write this final chapter. 
> 
> I'll make up for all the other ships, so I hope you guys look forward to that. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this far. I'll see you next update ;) 
> 
> \- Kei (@die_tsukki)


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